


Kiss & Melt Away

by devils_soulmate



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, M/M, Mafia NCT, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 114,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devils_soulmate/pseuds/devils_soulmate
Summary: What would happen when Mark Lee, a Canadian-born-Korean who studied in an international university in Korea, got his ass saved by a Japanese Yakuza’s son, Yuta Nakamoto?
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 286
Kudos: 633





	1. HOT HOT SUMMER

**Author's Note:**

> Good day,
> 
> It is I, the native MAFIA!AU fic writer (because I lack creativity and time :')). Also, this story was dedicated and created to and by my friend and me. So yes, I hope this satisfies her and all of you, too.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ

The summer sky was dark and the sky was littered with stars. The wind was warm as hell and Mark was struggling to fall asleep in his dorm room. Their air-conditioner broke down a few days ago and they had only one single fan to regulate the airflow in their room. Not to mention how that fan was borrowed from their neighbors, Renjun and Chenle, who were both his juniors in university. Renjun being a year younger and Chenle being two years below.

“Yo, dude, I’m going to combust into flames or something,” Mark complained as he buried his face into the cold tiles, hoping they could cool his body down.

“And don’t you dare do that,” Mark’s roommate, Lucas warned, “The room is already hot enough.”

Mark felt sweaty and sticky and uncomfortable. The hottest summer in Seoul was no joke and he cannot help but reminisce of the good, cold days in Canada, where the highest temperatures are generally in the low 20 degrees Celsius range. He forced himself to sit up from his floor, the patch he was lying on was growing warm and it was getting quite annoying.

“I’m going to take a bath and I’m going to take a stroll to cool myself down,” Mark decided, voicing his choices out more for himself than for Lucas. He glanced at the latter, who was lying on the bed across his room, he had his eyes closed, practically forcing himself to fall asleep in the impossible heat. He had wanted to ask the other to come with him but he knew how whiny Lucas can get and decided against it.

Mark wiggled his tired body and his sweat-soaked shirt off the ground and trudged towards the wardrobe. Maybe a quick, nice bath and a short, cooling stroll would help with the hotness. Even if it doesn’t, Mark is going to sleep in Renjun and Chenle’s room as his Plan B.

* * *

And it did help. The humid air was slowly replaced by a cooling breeze, it was a match made in heaven when paired with efficacious and boppy hip-hop songs blasting into his eardrums. Mark was so glad he chose this and he felt lowkey guilty for not dragging Lucas along with him. The big boy would’ve liked this as much as he did.

There was a small park located behind his school dormitory buildings. It was more crowded in the day, with students rushing to and fro from classes at different timings and a few groups would be littered around the grass patch or studying under the tree shades. But at night after 7 pm, it was as good as a ghost town. Occasionally, students are seen sneaking in from the broken board of the wooden fence into their dorm rooms past curfew times, but other than that, it was pretty empty. 

Mark still remembered the day when a student found out that the bolts on the board were dented and loose. Some of them considered reporting it back to the school for it to be fixed, but more students rejected and disapproved of that decision, claiming that “it is for the greater good”. But honestly? It just allowed students to sneak out and in school so that they can all go to the nightclub down the street without any repercussions. Not that Mark or his friends cared. They neither visit that night club or have any other commitments (read: relationships) outside of school. All Mark actually cared about was actually passing History of Korea and actually going somewhere with his achievement in the music production club.

Before Mark could take another step, a flash of something white and  _ small  _ dashed past the corner of his eyes. He stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded.  _ What was that? _ He would have understood if it was another student trying to make it in before their curfew hours, which was 11 pm. But a university student couldn’t be  _ that small. _

He gaped owlish at the wooden plank that was now slightly tilted.  _ Was it a child who got lost and wandered in? Or was it his eyes playing tricks on him? Maybe a ghost has decided to haunt him late at night? Probably a prank or a hidden camera? _ A thousand thoughts flashed through Mark’s mind, some of them sinister, some of them purely foolish, but none of them could quench the curiosity and questions he had in mind. 

Against his better judgment, Mark decided to follow suit to see who, or what it was, that had run out of their campus. He jogged towards the slanted board and slid his torso out, pulling both of his legs through before adjusting and straightening the fence. He then whipped his head from the left and to the right, contemplating which direction he should go. 

And then he spotted her. A little girl with doll-like features was peeking out from the corner across the street. She wore a white dress, pigtails slightly messy and she looked like she had been crying. Her big, glassy, watery eyes staring expectantly at him as she mouthed something.

The university student squinted his slightly myopic eyes and tried to read her lips.

_ Help...me… _

_ Help me!  _ Mark internally panicked as he swallowed nervously. This wasn’t what he was expecting but if a little girl needed his help then he just had to help. He glanced at his watch, it was almost 11 pm. Well, if he managed to do whatever he needed to before the curfew then it’s surely going to be okay. Right?

_...Right? _

And so Mark dashed across the street to the remote part of the corner where the little girl was. And before Mark could even stop to catch his breath, the little girl started running deeper into the alleyway, “Help! Follow me!” She screamed. Mark pursued.  _ What the hell is going on? _

The alleyway was almost pitch-black, the air was sickeningly clammy and wet, stenches of cigarette and trash odorous. He could barely make out whatever was around him except for the silhouettes of the objects and the young child who jolted to a stop before him. Mark could tell they were in the dead-end of the alley. She whirled around to stare at him, glossy eyes illuminating creepily in the dark.

“Ar-Are you lost?” Mark asked carefully, the question came out more like a whisper, his voice hoarse from all the running.

“Mr brother always told me,” The little girl began, her voice was silky and sweet, and yet there was something hair-raising about the way she said it, “To never follow any strangers.”

Mark felt like he was having trouble breathing; fear and anxiousness rising and clogging out his throat.

“What do you mean- I thought you were-”

“She meant that,” A male voice bellowed behind him, making the university student jump from surprised and heightened distress, “You’re now going to be  _ taken  _ by us.”

_ What. The. Hell. _

There were more than five men standing behind him, each of them had weapons in their hands. Mark could slightly make out the shape of a baseball bat, a melee, swiss army knife of some sort, and then he couldn’t tell what else was there anymore. The little girl ran and skipped and ran past Mark and towards the group of men.

“Wait-”

“Oppa, I did well right!” she beamed with proudness and happiness visible on her face as she jumped into the embrace of one of the men at the back. This wasn’t the tear-sickened girl Mark saw. She wasn’t lost nor did she need his help. She was a bait and she lured him into this.

“Yes, Hana, you did a great job. ” The second man to the right cooed, his voice sinister, reaching his hands up to ruffle her head, “Now we just have to bring him back to the boss.”

The animosity of whoever and whatever out there wanting to harm him was too overwhelming. He felt sick to the stomach.

Mark felt like crying. Lucas had told him many times that he was “too nice for his own good”, the kind that he would allow people to take advantage of him without even realizing that he had been taken advantage of. Every single time, he would brush it off and shrug, telling Lucas, “Well, that’s why we’re friends. You can take care of me,”. But now? Lucas is probably drowning in his own sweat and Mark is going to drown in his own tears. Or maybe blood. Perhaps both.

He felt himself cowering and backing all the way back to the wall of the dead-end, his knees shaking and threatening to give way as he attempted to put some distance between the hooligans and him, secretly wishing that the wall would swallow him whole or that some secret portal could open up and rescue him.

“What do you want from me!” Mark screamed, desperation laced in his voice and his face paled, “I- Please!”

“Hey, hey, stop screaming, pretty boy!” The man at the front, presumably their leader, yelled as he trudged forward angrily. Mark couldn’t see him clearly but he felt a huge hand engulfed his face. And before his reflexes could kick in, both of his arms were constrained tightly behind him by another two guys. 

Mark struggled hard. He twisted and he turned, he thrashed, and he attempted to kick off or even wiggled away from his abductors but to no avail. 

They easily blocked his weak attacks and pressed his arms further behind his back, eliciting jolts of pain into his body. He shrieked, cried, and yelled at the top of his lungs, only to let all of his screams of help and pain be muffled by the huge hand.

Waves and waves of panic blossomed in his stomach.  _ Shit. Shit. Shit. _ They were dragging him away. He felt like he had lost control of his body as three men, clearly two or three times of his size, trawling him out of the alleyway like a sack of potatoes. 

It was probably past 11 pm and the street should be empty by now. No one would be able to see him or save him. He’s in huge trouble and he’s going to die.

_ I fucked up. Fuck my life. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _

The fear, anxiousness, and five thousand thoughts running through his mind every millisecond might have triggered something in Mark.

In a spur of stress and agitation, Mark felt a surge of adrenaline pumped through his veins, fueling his fight-or-flight reflexes. 

He spurred into action, sensing the extra boost to his muscles, he used the superhuman strength in his body to tear himself away from the three men. Roaring at the top of his lungs, he also managed to kick one of the men in his crotch as he aimed to grab his arms again, not forgetting to land a solid punch in another’s face before taking off.

The poor boy had no idea where he was going, he didn’t really have a place in mind that could help him, or anyone he knew well enough in the city who could provide him with sanctuary. He just let his body and instinct take control of his legs as he sprinted towards the direction he was more familiar with. The damp, muggy midnight air was burning into his lungs, and it definitely wasn’t helping with him choking on saliva and tears.

“Oi! You fucker!” He heard one of the men screamed, followed by a stampede of footsteps that were growing louder and louder behind him.

_ Holy fucking shit they’re near! _

Mark picked up his pace, forcing himself to go beyond his maximum. He took every turn into the street corners, making an effort to lose the men. 

“Don’t let him run!”

“Catch him!”

A few more screaming and yellings can be heard. Mark used his sleeves to wipe away the sweat from his forehead and tightened his jaws. He just broke free from them, he can’t let himself be caught again. Ignoring his sore limbs and the burn in his lungs, he picked up his pace again.

CHERRY BOMB. The neon sign of the night club illuminated from a distance. It was the one that most students of his university frequented and he felt himself breathe a sigh of relief. At least he knew that this part of the town was more populated, at least he could get help if he tried.

He sprinted past two busy sharp-eyed and muscular bouncers and into the dimly-lit club, not giving them a chance to stop him to ask for his identification card. The bass and beats blast reverberating through his chest cavity and the flashing lights in the room were killing him. 

He glanced behind him and saw one of the bouncers was striding up to him. 

_ Oh crap. _

The initial adrenaline was wearing off and his stamina depleted. Still, he cannot let himself be caught. He half jogged and half limped towards the deep end of the club, constantly snapping his head around to look for the men or the bouncers.

The deeper he went, the darker it got, the quieter the music became and lesser people there were, allowing himself to take a break as he tried to lay a low profile. Mark prayed that his abductors wouldn’t find him there. A thick mixture of spilled alcohol and cigarette smoke filled his lungs and he glanced around nervously. 

“Hyung, he’s there!”

He wasn’t even given sufficient time to plan his next move when he heard a familiar voice.

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _ Mark cursed in his heart. His palpitations quickened again. Any given moment, his heart would burst out of his chest. He pushed himself to kick off and run deeper into the club, in hope of finding an emergency exit or something. He looked behind him to track the man when-

“Oomph-” Mark grunted when he crashed his straight into something, causing him to lose his balance and stumble backward and almost landing on his butt. To his surprise, a strong arm reached out instinctively to steady him on his arm. It wasn’t something, it was  _ someone _ .

“Th-thanks!” Mark tried to scream over the music. He didn’t have all the time for formalities. He’s going to die soon if he doesn’t run. And so, he tried to push past the stranger whom he can’t really see in the dark

“Ah!” Mark yelped as he was pulled backward unexpectedly, crashing straight into the stranger’s chest. The hand on his arm refused to let go. Mark whirled his head back to face the stranger, their faces inches apart, feeling his breath on his face. 

The flashing lights were making it hard for him to see who this stranger was, all he knew was that his own fear-filled pleading eyes had met with cold, unsettlingly calm ones.

Mark felt his own heart skip two beats as he visibly swallowed as if to shove his heart back to where it belongs.

“I found him!”

The overfamiliar voice made Mark jump and snapped him out of his own trance. He stared at the direction of the dance floor and at the familiar group of people trudging up towards him. It was too late. His abductors were already here. 

“Please, please let me go!” His voice cracked as he pleaded, forcefully pulling his arm once, and twice. The stranger stubbornly refused to let go.

“They’re going to capture me! Let me go! Please!” Mark begged again, this time using more power to pull himself free. The stranger, however, barely budged from his strength and held onto him firmly.

Maybe the stranger was part of the plot of capturing him and he walked straight into the trap thinking he was his savior. Mark felt himself surrendering to despair. His throat tightened and soon, he was gasping for air.

“Get him!” 

Mark attempted one last try of removing his arm from the grasp of the stranger, and as he expected, it didn’t work.

_ I’m done for- _

“Did I say that you could?” The stranger spoke. There was a certain authority in his voice that made all of them stopped in their tracks. It was quiet, low,  _ and  _ dominating. Mark could make out an accent in the way he spoke.

“Fuck off, who the fuck are you!” One of the men shouted angrily.

_ Wait, what? They weren’t working together? Then who- _

“ _ Shategashira! _ ” The stranger articulated emphatically, surprisingly audible and clear over the blaring music. It sounded like an order or a command, and Mark definitely knew it was something in Japanese but he didn’t understand it.

Within seconds, a group of suited men marched up to them and surrounded them. Mark panicked again, he hadn’t seen them before so  _ where the hell _ did they come from. He’s so tired of all of this and he just wanted to go back to his room. Even if it was a life-sized oven he would’ve opted to stay inside.

The supposed leader of the group of abductors seemed to understand what was happening. His eyes widened to the size of a saucer pan before falling to his knees and clasped his palms together.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Please let us go for once! We should’ve known better” He wailed, bowing so low that his head touched the floor, “I’m so sorry we didn’t recognize you, Sir Nakam-”

_ Thwack!  _ The head of the suited men kicked him  _ straight in the head _ with his dress shoe, causing the kneeling man to fall on his side, screeching in pain while covering his head. The rest of the thugs fell to their knees too. All kowtowing and begging for forgiveness towards the stranger who still had his iron grip around Mark’s arm. The university student’s stomach quivered.  _ Who is this man? And what is he? What is going on? And why are they so afraid? _

“Speak of his name one more time and I will show you no mercy,” The suited men spoke coldly, his voice, too, was heavily coated with a Japanese accent.

Mark wasn’t sure what this situation would escalate into, neither was he curious about. If this man had decided to help him, then he surely would let him go if he asked him nicely, right? 

Mark cautiously reached his free arm to the stranger and tapped on his hands that was still around his wrist. 

“I- I have to go now, c-can you let me go?” He stuttered timidly, momentarily wondering if he was supposed to kneel and beg for him to be let go too.

To his surprise, the stranger let go of his arm. Mark couldn’t tell from the dark, but he could sense reluctance and disappointment from him. And he didn’t know  _ why _ . The Japanese stranger nodded to, what Mark could only assume, his underlings. Another suited man walked up to him, head lowered.

“Kentaro, send him back,” The stranger ordered, nodding his head towards Mark. His underling bowed to him once and then another time to Mark.

The underling, who was called Kentaro, walked towards Mark and ushered him towards the exit of the club

“Sir, after you,” He said, pressing his lips into a thin line where his two dimples became visible to Mark.  _ Okay, that escalated quickly, _ Mark mumbled to himself. 

He then threaded out from the spectacular crowd that formed behind the dance floor, occasionally checking behind him that the underling was still with him. Once, when one of the colored flashing lights shone to the back of the club, Mark thought he saw the Japanese stranger staring at him. But he wasn’t very sure. The next time he tried to see it again, his view was blocked by waves and waves of grinding bodies.


	2. MEETING JOHNNY AND HIS COOL INTERNATIONAL FRIENDS

The glitzy, raucous nightclub was too loud and flashy for his likings. He _had_ enjoyed it. Maybe even more so when that cute, pretty boy wandered in from the crowded dance floor. At first, he had looked away, trying to find something else that could entertain him more. But sooner or later, he found himself gravitating towards this extraordinary boy that has captured his attention.

Fuck that, he’s going to try and talk to him or something. Maybe he could get his attention and then maybe something more could happen. You never know until you try.

And that’s what Yuta did. He placed his cup of whiskey down onto the glass table from the VIP section and stood up.

“Sir Nakamoto, is there anywhere you’re going?” His _Wakagashira_ , his second in command, asked him ornately. Yuta shook his head with a playful smile.

“Not really. Look at that pretty boy over there?” He pointed at the brown-haired boy who was maneuvering his way out of the crowded bodies, “I’m going to try to hit him up, and you know?”

Yuta winked and his _Wakagashira_ nodded curtly.

“I’ll look into him for you.”

* * *

It wasn’t the way that he crashed into him mindless that made him angry or the way he had been so desperate about pulling away from him that annoyed him, but the fear in his eyes, and the way his voice shook made Yuta’s blood boil.

“They’re going to capture me! Let me go! Please!” The cries of the brown-haired boy cut at him. He knew this sound, this voice, these _emotions_ too well. Maybe a little too well, but he couldn't help it when he grew up hearing it. 

_Desperation. And despair._

Who the fuck dares to abduct someone from his territory? He can’t help but feel the unbridled fury took over him.

“Get him!”

Yuta smirked sardonically. These imbeciles thought they could just take anything, or _anyone_ , from him without any consequences. _Low lives_.

“Did I say that you could?” Yuta said unflinchingly.

“Fuck off, who the fuck are you!” 

He sighed. These bastards, these bastards had the cheeks to ask him that. He didn’t have time to play games, however. Not with this pretty boy shaking and trembling beside him.

“ _Shategashira_!” He called out, knowing his lieutenant had followed him closely and was somewhere near enough to hear him. 

His men were filling up around him and Yuta did the thugs a favor by tapping on his pendant, directing their attentions to his family pendant. He watched as the man’s eyes grew larger in size as he realized what had happened, falling to his knees and clasping his palms together, begging for forgiveness.

He supposed his lieutenant and underlings can take over now. Still, he needed to find out who they work for, and why they were here, in his territory. Before he could order his lieutenant to follow out on his order, the browned-hair boy had tapped on his arm that was still holding firmly onto him. It was endearing how gentle his touch was, almost painstakingly feather-light as compared to his calloused and helical one.

“I- I have to go now, c-can you let me go?”

Feeling like his guts just got cement pumped into them, his heart dropped together with his hand. What even was he expecting? This was a boy whose life is filled with normalcy and yet, his life was...his life was monochrome and bloody. Ignoring the lump that sat stubbornly in his throat, he nodded towards Kentaro, one of his underlings and also his designated driver.

“Kentaro, send him back.”

After making sure the brown-haired boy was safely out of the club with Kentaro, his gaze not faltering from his back, Yuta stretched, and cracked his knuckles and his neck. Now he can finally get down to proper business.

The young master squatted down before the group of kneeling men and studied them with a predator’s unwavering attention.

“I’m sure you already know who I am,” Yuta began, eyes narrowed, a vertical wrinkle between his eyebrows. His lips pursed slightly.

“So, tell me. Who do you work for?”

Upon hearing his words, the first man continued to kowtow to him, aggressively and rapidly this time, his forehead slamming onto the glossy tiles. Yuta looked towards his _Shategashira_ with knowing eyes.

“Tie them up!” His lieutenant ordered. His second in command helped him up and bowed to him. 

“What should we do to them?”

“Find out who they work for. And find out why they were here in our territory,” Yuta bit his lower lips and stuck both on his hands into his pockets nonchalantly, the crying voices of the brown-haired boy repeating in his head like a broken record.

Looking up darkly towards his lieutenant, he gave him a humorless smile.

“Every single time they refuse to answer your question, I expect a finger cut off from them.”

* * *

Almost a year had passed since whatever had happened to him that night. Even until now, he still couldn’t fully understand everything. Multiple times, he had tried to reason it out with himself, but to only end up with more questions than he had started with. Questions like, who were the group of thugs who wanted to capture him? And why did that Japanese stranger help him? And who is he? And why were they so afraid of him? There were just so many things Mark needed answers to, but he wasn’t very sure if he actually _wanted_ them.

He had also resorted to keeping his mouth shut from Lucas, Renjun, and Chenle. Mainly because he knew Lucas was the kind to beat himself up for being a bad friend, which, to be fair, he wasn’t, Mark was just being careless, and Renjun and Chenle were the kinds to get extremely fighty and would probably look for their abductors to square the hell up.

He remembered how that one time, a student had copied his test paper during one of the exams. The other three got so mad on his behalf they almost fought him.

“You can’t let them do this to you!” Lucas yelled with that baritone of his, his pronunciation completely off but his spirit burned passionately.

“I’m- Come on, it’s fine!” Mark had to scream back with the same volume, trying to calm this big baby down.

“No! We’re telling you it’s not!” Chenle grumbled, his arms akimbo, “tell us who it is!”

“Yea! Tell us who it is!” Renjun repeated with his brows furrowed, “We’ll teach him a lesson for you!”

Mark had to spend the next 20 minutes to convince all three of them to not look for the bully that they had threatened to beat up.

He also anonymously reported to get that damn wooden fence fixed, telling the school how he saw strangers and people not from the school coming in and out using that makeshift exit. The student body had been complaining about it for a while and Mark just knew if they knew he was the one who reported it, he would be as good as dead meat.

Mark would be lying to say that the incident wasn’t traumatizing. Multiple nights, he found himself having different variations of nightmares of the same scene of him being chased around in an endless loop. However, the nightmare always ended up with him being rescued by that Japanese stranger. It was weird because he had never properly seen his face. Except for the fact that he knew that they were around the same height from his silhouette and that he had a pair of cold, cold eyes.

Mark had expected to have to deal with a bigger problem than nightmares. Lucky (or maybe not) for him, he was stuck in an unending spiral of school work, exam, and club activities. So, if he convinced himself enough, he might just be able to pretend that everything that had happened that night was simply a nightmare or a hallucination.

Ever since the air-conditioner in his room finally got fixed, he basically spent his entire day in his room or in the recording room making music and rushing his assignments. Mark knew how important this evaluation was, for both of his resume and the music production club. For the four of them, including Lucas, Renjun, and Chenle, had planned to audition for one of the biggest K-Pop companies in Korea, SM Entertainment, after graduation.

He was finally in his final year and the final-evaluation was coming up, and Mark found himself worrying and spending time on his music production and losing sleep over schoolwork. He almost fell asleep in the library when his phone buzzed, grabbing his phone before he allowed his consciousness to be ebbed away.

Yo, meet up after your evaluation? 

Your treat :) 

\- Johnny-Hyung 

The text made him giggle. Johnny was one of Mark’s favorite and closest seniors in school and the rap and music club before the older student graduated. He was also one of those that inspired and encouraged Mark to join SM Entertainment, to which he was forever grateful. 

Yes, Hyung, that would be anytime after August 23rd. 

\- Marky 

Before Mark could put his phone down, Johnny replied. _Still a fast texter_ , Mark mused.

I have some really cool international friends, you gotta meet them! 

\- Johnny-Hyung 

Well, that’s one thing to look forward to during August. Hanging out with Johnny is the best thing ever.

* * *

“Mark, Mark, Mark,” Lucas chanted nervously, his huge hands swatting the shorter male annoyingly, “Why is the result not out yet?”

Mark raised his brows at his friend amusingly. Today was the day of their evaluation result and he knew they all did great for it. Renjun and Chenle had the vocal assessment, Lucas had the dance one, and for him, it was rapping and music producing. 

The four of them had gathered in their room, all busy on their phones and laptop refreshing their school website for the updated results. The four of them had always done well, and he was sure that they did this time right, too.

“Holy shit!” Chenle shrieked, almost yeeting his phone across the room out of excitement, “I got placed third across the cohort!”

Renjun tilted his laptop screen towards the rest of them, “Ha! I got first for my vocal assessment, take that Zhong Chen-Le!”

Chenle kicked Renjun in the knee jokingly and the latter leaped out of his seat expertly, making both Mark and Lucas both doubled over in laughter.

“I got second,” Lucas sang as he waved his phone around like a little child, “how about you, Mark?”

Mark stopped laughing and refreshed his laptop screen one more time. “MUSIC PRODUCING EVALUATION. 1. MARK LEE” sat right on top of the screen. He breathed out a sigh of relief. Okay, good, great start. Then he moved on to the next tab, heart-thumping nervously yet excitedly. “RAP EVALUATION. 1. MARK LEE”

He let out a shaky breath he never knew he was holding, before breaking into a huge grin.

“I got first for both!”

“Heck yea!” 

“Good job, Mark!” 

“Dinner’s on you!” 

His friends screamed. Nice, he’s so going to brag about it to Johnny and make him buy him lunch. To be fair, Johnny was always the one who ended up paying for their meals no matter how many times he brought the “your treat” joke up. But this time, it was different, it was the first time he had the first place for both components, and since it was the final assessment before his graduation, he wanted something more expensive than their regular meal.

* * *

Mark raked through his wardrobe and frowned at the amount and variety of clothes he had. The last time he actually went out of school was close to four months ago, where Chenle had dragged all of them out for dinner, and he really _needed_ nicer clothes. He’s going to meet Johnny today, and usually, he tries to dress up slightly nicer (because Johnny had the tendencies to roast his fashion sense), but today, it was different. He was going to meet Johnny’s friends, and he wanted to make a good first impression. 

“Lucas,” Mark called out, without even looking at his friend who’s gaming intensely on his computer, “I’m going to take this outerwear from you.”

“It’s going to be oversized for you,” Lucas replied in a matter-of-fact tone without looking up or missing a beat. Mark rolled his eyes.

“Yea, I know.”

Lucas’s long, grey coat made Mark look extremely small and cuddly. It wasn’t exactly his style, but he supposed this looked way better than whatever he was planning to wear before that. 

Johnny picked Mark up from school to wherever they were supposed to go. And as usual, their car rides were filled with jokes and laughter.

“You rarely wore such nice clothes, where’d you get that?” Johnny asked with his eyebrows raised.

“Took it from Lucas,” Mark beamed. It was rare that Johnny actually complimented his outfits.

“Figures.”

The affectionate sarcasm made Mark laugh, which in turn, made Johnny laugh too.

“Oh right, Hyung,” Mark wiped a stray tear away, “who are these ‘really cool international friends’ you mentioned in your text?”

The car stopped before the traffic light and the older male turned to look at him.

“They’re actually your seniors from school too,” Johnny answered, “and they’re also from the Music club.”

“What’s their nationality? How come I never met them before?”

“China, Japan, and Thailand. All of them from the Dance club,” Johnny replied, eyes on the road. Then he frowned.

“Do you even socialize outside of your friend circle?”

“Yea! I do it all the time!” Mark yelled back defensively, “I talked to Hendery and Xiao-Jun too!”

“Yes, whatever. Still not as cool as my friends.”

And well, Johnny was right. He always was, but Mark was still surprised. Johnny’s friends were cool and _suave as hell_ . All of them were seated around the red and black velvet sofa in a high-end cafe, wearing expensive outfits and shoes, their wrists were glistening with gold and branded watches. They look _expensive_.

He watched them from afar with his mouth agape, feeling too broke and out of place to even walk in or join them.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” Johnny teased as he pushed Mark from behind, urging him to join his group of friends. Mark forced himself to walk forwards, praying that the insecurities were invisible from his face. Lucas had often commented that Mark is like an open-book; always wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Hey, guys! Meet our juniors!” Johnny half-shouted enthusiastically, one hand behind Mark’s back encouragingly and his free hand motioning towards him, “He’s Mark Lee, the one I’ve told you guys about.”

“H-hi!” Mark greeted shyly as he stood beside the table, his fingers poking out of the sleeves of Lucan’s coat, “I’m Mark!”

“Hello~” The man on the far left replied, scrunching his nose cutely. Mark can’t help but notice his feline-like features. “I’m Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, but you can call me Ten!

Mark bowed respectfully to him. He must be the Thai that Johnny mentioned.

“Hi, I’m Dong Sicheng, just call me WinWin,” the very good-looking man beside Ten greeted with a shy, polite smile. 

“Hi, WinWin-Hyung”, Mark replied. So, he’s the Chinese.

Mark then turned his attention to the last person who sat across the other side of the table, who had to be the Japanese in Johnny’s circle of friends. 

His eyes were huge, his hair was blonde and they were longer than usual men's. There’s something... something different and captivating about him. And yet, there was a sense of familiarity that Mark couldn’t quite put his finger to. It’s as if..as if they had met before. But then again, Mark studied his face. No, he definitely hadn’t seen this face before. It was...it was weird.

“He’s Yuta!” Johnny interjected the awkwardness with a loud, merry introduction, “He’s more introverted with new people but he’s really pretty cool!”

“O-oh!” Mark snapped out of his own trance and thought and broke into an understanding grin, “That’s fine. Hi, Yuta-Hyung!”

Yuta simply nodded with a light, emotionless smile, averting his eyes back to the half-eaten Matcha cake that sat before him. 

Shrugging off the eccentric atmosphere, Mark slid into the seat beside WinWin and Johnny took the one across him, beside Yuta. Mark ordered himself an Iced Americano.

“So, how did you do for your evaluation?” Johnny began as he stole a spoonful of cake from Yuta. Mark giggled when Yuta shot the tall male with an annoyed glare, but awkwardly stopped when he caught Yuta staring at him with an unreadable gaze.

“I got first for both components!” Mark beamed. Johnny smiled back at him like a proud dad.

“Woah, nice!” Ten complimented, then pointed back and forth between WinWin and Yuta, “I only managed to get the first for like, two times. It’s always the three of us competing for the dance assessment.”

WinWin nodded cutely and Yuta...Yuta simply stared at Mark. The way he did it unnerved the younger male. It made him feel like Yuta could read his mind or there’s just something that he knew that Mark doesn’t.

Then, something really weird happened. Yuta broke into a genuine smile, the kind that made his eyes disappear.

“You did well, Mark,” Yuta praised him, his voice gentle, and this time, he did not avoid his eyes. Mark felt a little sick, like butterflies in his stomach. Now, this is uncommon. Mark was usually more open to making friends. He’s usually shyer when meeting new people, but never like this. He brushed that feeling off, too.

“Tha-thanks!” Mark stuttered, warmth seeping up from his chest to his neck. Okay, there’s definitely something wrong with him. Maybe he needed to get his body check of something.

The rest of the outing went extremely enjoyable, Mark even got to exchange numbers with all of them and got added into their group chat. . Johnny was, well, being Johnny, Ten was sassy, WinWin was funny in his own way, but Yuta, there was something uneasy about him, and yet, extremely appealing at the same time. 

Mark found his eyes traveling to Yuta a lot, and he had to constantly remind himself that he was starring again. It wasn’t his fault that Yuta looked so good in his white hoodie, and how his punk rock style rings fitted so well on his long, slender fingers, unlike his short, stubby ones. And how sharp his nose bridge was, how plump his lips looked, and how gorgeous his smiles seemed to be. How easily that his hazel eyes danced from a joyous one to annoyance (when Johnny had tried to steal his food, again) one.

At that moment, Yuta flickered towards him, catching him staring. Like a deer caught in a headlight, Mark reddened but didn’t look away, simply because he lacked time to, and he _forgot_ to pretend that he wasn’t staring. Time felt like it had stopped all around them when Yuta stared, and slowly, he _smirked_. God, Mark’s heart did a flip-flop.

“Dude, you alright?” Johnny asked as he placed the back of his hand on Mark’s forehead, forcing the younger male out of his hypnotic stupor, “You look sick.”

“Y- yea,” Mark laughed nervously, glancing down to his cup of Iced Americano, “Must have been, the, must have been the lack of sleep! Yea! That!”

If the red on his cheeks and his ears aren’t a clear indication of his embarrassment, then the slight sweating and the stuttering are basically flashing neon signs.

WinWin frowned at him worriedly and patted his back comfortingly. “You should go back to rest,”

Mark stole one more glance at Yuta and realized that he was no longer looking at him. His shoulders unconsciously slumped in disappointment and he looked away too.

“I think I’ll go back to have some rest,” Mark announced to the group and then stared at Johnny expectantly. The older male took the cue and nodded.

“Okay, let’s go, I’ll send you back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY MID-WEEK!!
> 
> Not sure how much time I spent editing and adding new things into this fic but...Yuta though ꈍ .̮ ꈍ
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy~ Once again, comments very much appreciated!
> 
> Love, Love Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	3. YUTA NAKAMOTO

“Remember the information about the boy I had you look into? Mark Lee?” Yuta asked casually as he slipped into the back seat of a black Rolls Royce.

“Young Master, I thought you-” His second in command gaped at him, every muscle of his body froze visibly before he recovered from his surprise and allowed the poker-face to take control over him again. It was rare that he had been caught off guard.

“Young Master,” His _Wakagashira_ tried again, this time with more cool on his face, and calmness in his voice, “I thought you had ordered for us to destroy all the information we have gathered about him.”

Yuta didn’t reply to him. 

When he finally got to look at Mark’s face up close, upfront, and not under the flamboyant, flaring lights, it was not on the perfect features that he dwelled - not the gold-flecked dark brown eyes, nor the pomegranate pink lips. Instead, it was the small blemishes and insecurities that allured him. The small acne scar on the forehead, the shy, boyish smile, the very “obnoxious” and “maniacal” (as Johnny had put it), yet joyous and precious peals of laughter. That was the moment Yuta knew he had found the person who was perfectly imperfect for him.

“Young Master? Do you still want me to fetch his data for you?”

Yuta bit his lips. “No.” He finally decided. “But I have something I need you to do for me.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“He needs to be protected. At all times. Any form of danger or threat towards him is to be eliminated and reported back to me.”

* * *

Mark had been staring at the ceiling wall for the past one hour and he still can’t fall asleep. It had been like that for the past few days since he had met Johnny and his friends. Specifically Yuta.

Every single time he tried to close his eyes, all he could see was...Yuta. The way he smiles affectionately and sweetly to his friends. The way he scrunches his nose up before he laughs at WinWin’s jokes. The way he tilted his head as he listened attentively to Ten. The way his eyes glistened when he found something remotely interesting. And the way he smirked when he looked at him.

_Ok, well, fuck._

Mark yanked his blanket over his head and squeezed his eyes shut. The air-condition was blasting cold but Mark felt his body getting warmer and warmer. This is definitely unhealthy and he needed to stop.

\---

“Mark-Hyung, pass me the bottle behind you,” Chenle called out, not looking up from his textbook.

Several minutes had passed and yet, there was no response from the older male. 

“Mark-Hyung, I said pass me the goddamn bottle.”

Chenle frowned with annoyance and finally looked up from his book. Said older male had his textbook opened to the homework page, and despite that, he was staring into space, his mouth opened like a stupid goldfish. Chenle’s frown deepened as he reached over to smack on the arm.

Mark jumped from the surprise and impact, snapping his jaw shut and staring at Chenle with huge saucer eyes. “Ow! What the hell was that for!” Mark cried, glaring at the younger male as he caressed his glowing red arm. Chenle glared back.

“I’ve been telling you to pass me that bottle from behind you for a few times!” The younger yelled back in the same volume, and if not, angrier.

Well, that left Mark speechless. He wasn’t exactly paying attention, but he didn’t know he had been _that_ oblivious. He hurled him the bottle, which caused the latter to screech in protest.

Mark wouldn’t say it out loud, but he had been thinking about Yuta. That Japanese man really knew how to pop into his mind at the most inconvenient time. Like when he’s sleeping, or when he’s studying with his friend. Just imagining Yuta's healing smiles or the way he smirked could easily make Mark red.

“Chenle,” Mark called out to the younger man, studying his face carefully as he chose his next word.

“Yea?”

“What does it mean when I keep thinking about someone, like, I literally dream about them all the time,” Mark blabbered on, his hands' gestures getting bigger and bigger, “And, you know, I’m not even lying-”

Mark stopped when he finally noticed the cringe on Chenle’s face, it made him cringed too. He supposed this just wasn’t the kind of talk you would have with your younger friend.

“Mark!” Chenle exclaimed after an excruciating duration of the pause. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this!”

“What?!” Mark answered defensively, refusing to admit that the younger was right.

“Urgh, and I thought you had more experience than me,” Chenle rolled his eyes dramatically before an exasperated sigh, “I think you’re in love? No? A crush? Is that not what it is?”

_In love? A crush? What nonsense is this gremlin babbling about?_

“Wha-”

“Yea, and don’t try to ‘what’ me because you’re wrong and I’m leaving,” Chenle had a finger held up, signaling Mark to shut the hell up, before jumping onto his feet and trudged out of their room sassily. Gosh, what the hell is Chenle talking about. He can’t possibly like Yuta. Especially not in _that_ way!

* * *

_“Yesterday evening, August 1st, five drug factories were found burnt and destroyed in Gyeonggi. There was also an anonymous tip-off that led the police force to Gangwon, where three other factories were found manufacturing illegal arms; the Police force busted the illegal gun-manufacturing factories and had arrested more than 82 men and reported seizing 4200 weapons and five crates of unfinished firearms from the site.The perpetrators of these arson cases were not yet found. The police suspected that this case was executed by the same organized criminal group who sank the ships of illegal organ harvesters last year in September. In the next news, we will be…”_

The news report played on the TV that hung somewhere at the back of the practice room that Mark was alone in, he was immersing himself in making a new track when...

“Boo!”

“Yike!” Mark yelped as he jumped from surprise. He yanked his headphones down as he whipped his head around to look at the perpetrator who had decided to scare him. It was Johnny Suh, who was pointing at him and doubling over with laughter. Mark was supposed to be angry at him but ended up laughing at himself too. Before he could run out of breath laughing, someone tapped his shoulder and he whirled his head to the back again. It was Ten who tapped him, behind him stood WinWin and Yuta. Mark felt himself sitting straighter and averting his gaze somewhere else.

The four seniors sat around Mark, Yuta, and Johnny each on his sides, Ten and WinWin across him. The close proximity with Yuta had made him extremely jittery, his fingers couldn’t stop playing with each other, and he had stolen exactly three glances at Yuta and had to force himself to look away and stop staring to admire Yuta’s perfect side profile. Yuta was wearing a black, thin sweater today. A necklace with a unique pendant sat idly above the pit of his neck, his collarbones visible above the neck-drop of the sweater, Mark found himself staring again. 

_Stop it, Mark!_ He internally yelled at himself.

“Oh right, Ten and WinWin,” Johnny interjected the conversation, glancing at his watch, “Professor Hasegawa’s class is ending soon. Shall we go now?”

Apparently, Johnny, WinWin, and Ten took Japanese modules as elective classes when they were undergraduates, Yuta, as a Japanese citizen, was ineligible to take. They had heard that their professor, Professor Hasegawa, was retiring, and decided to visit her as alumni, hence all of them came back and dropped by to hang out at the Music club, where Mark was coincidentally chilling in.

The three of them were getting on their feet when Yuta lazily placed both of his arms behind him and rested his weight on it.

“Guys, I’m just going to stay here to wait for y'all to come back,” He announced, then he turned his attention to Mark, who felt the heat rise to his cheeks when their eyes met. The older male grinned and Mark snapped his head away, breaking off the eye contact. He was very much aware that if he continued to stare, he would get lost in his huge, honey brown eyes. Mark could feel his eyes still on him and he silently inhaled and exhaled, hoping that Yuta wouldn’t notice his nervousness.

“Alright,” Johnny nodded as he strode towards the door, “you keep my son company.”

The door closed and Mark stole a (not so) subtle peek at Yuta. His heart thumped so hard that he swore it was audible, their eyes had met again and Yuta smiled. It was only a small smile, but it was enough to make him go weak at the knees. This was more nerve-wracking than he had expected.

“Uh, so Yuta-Hyung”, Mark began as he stared at nothingness on the room tiles, his voice cracking a little from nervousness, attempting to break the awkwardness that was starting to suffocate him, “Your, your necklace looks good on you.”

From the corner of his eyes, he watched Yuta curiously pick up the pendant with his eyebrows raised. 

“They do?” Yuta questioned. He sounded bright, but he wasn’t exactly smiling. The disparity had thrown Mark a little off, which unfortunately spiraled into a panic.

Mark put both of his arms up and shook his head.

“No- Yea! I mean, yea!” He stuttered, sincerity overflowing from his eyes, “They’re really unique and they looked good!”

Yuta’s lips quirked up, but it was one of those that doesn’t reach his eyes. He toyed with the pendant with his fingers before glancing down at his outstretched legs.

“The pendant was given by my dad,” Yuta explained, though he looked like he was choosing his words carefully, an action Mark had come to notice after having to do it himself so many times, “My family name, ‘Nakamoto’, was carved on it. Want to take a look?”

Mark inched his head closer to the pendant, inches away from Yuta’s neck. Two huge kanjis, “中本” were carved vertically from each other, the pendant made out of gold.

_Nakamoto_ , Mark mouthed it with fascination, eyes still on the accessory. There’s that feeling again. The feeling of overwhelming familiarity with Yuta’s presence, and weirdly this time, his last name, too. Like he had heard it somewhere before.

Before his own heartbeats can start to pick up unreasonably, Mark set his laptop aside and jumped to his feet. He pretended to stretch his sore body. It had taken him a while to realize, but he could literally feel Yuta’s body heat radiating off him, that was how close they were beside each other.

“So, your full name is Nakamoto Yuta?”

_God, Mark, that was a shit ass conversation starter._ He had to look away to avoid showing the cringe on his face.

“Yes, but I would have preferred it to be **Yuta-Hyung** ”, Yuta replied. There was a hint of playfulness in his voice like he was _challenging_ Mark. And Mark, well, usually he’s more compliant and passive, but he did love to take up a challenge, especially one that sounded so captivatingly ambiguous by none other than Yuta.

“But we’re all foreigners! Who cares about formalities!” Mark grumbled cutely, his lower lips jutting out. He had done something similar to Renjun, but for the sole purpose of annoying the younger male. Which he succeeded because Renjun had him in a headlock and almost killed him with suffocation. “Johnny-Hyung calls you Yuta all the time and I want a free pass too!”

Yuta gave him an overly sweet smile. One that looked perfectly sarcastic and borderline annoyed, “No, you don’t get a free pass”.

_Yes!_ Mark succeeded in annoying Yuta, something he didn’t know he was capable of.

"Yuta! Nakamoto Yuta!" Mark continued with giddy giggles. 

It was so swift, it was so quick. So quick that Mark didn't even have time to register whatever was happening to find out Yuta had grabbed onto both of his arms and pinned him onto the white wall, his back slamming against the cold, hard cement. Both hands pressed on each side of his head on the wrists by the blonde-haired male, who had an unreadable expression and a cold gaze. He let a playful yet sharp smirk hang loosely on his lips as he studied Mark, their faces inches apart.

The exuberating aura engulfing him whole. This wasn't the Yuta he knew. Mark felt like he was Yuta's prey and he swallowed nervously. 

Mark couldn’t find his voice, to ask or to speak. His cheeks flushed hot, and his stomach was heavy. His disobedient heart pounded in his throat, threatening to break out. Yuta’s eyes stayed locked on him. He wasn't sure what was weirder at that point in time, Yuta being so uncomfortably close, or why the damn butterflies in his stomach were acting up.

Yuta raked Mark's face one time again before stopping his eyes on the younger's lips.

"It's Hyung for you. Yuta-Hyung" His voice was additionally alluring when said in a coarse whisper. 

Like a switch, his seductive eyes shimmered dangerously before he broke into a playful smile, "Call my name without the honorifics one more time and I won't be as gentle as this time."

Then Yuta detached himself from the younger, leaving Mark stunned and feeling like he had run a marathon. The aura he was exhibiting disappeared and the smile transformed into something more genuine. Something more _Yuta-like_.

_Okay, no, what the fuck was that._

Yuta scrunched his eyes and smiled cutely at the younger as if the whole ordeal prior to this moment hadn’t happened before. Mark’s heart was still beating at a life-threatening pace and saucer-eyes hadn’t reduced in size.

“I’m hungry,” Yuta announced, the same frisky twinkles still in his eyes, “Let’s go for food.”

* * *

Mark sat cross-legged on the highest floor of the traditional Japanese restaurant of a high-rise hotel, and he could see the skyscraper from where he was situated. Yuta sat across him, the landscape behind him look like a backdrop. He’s so beautiful he looked like a model in a painting.

Never in twenty-one years of Mark’s life would he ever imagine sitting in such a high-class and luxurious restaurant. Not to mention, it's with the most beautiful human being he knew. Maybe Yuta wasn’t human, since his beauty is out of the world.

Mark tried not to laugh at his own joke as he picked up the menu that sat before him. Yuta had offered to buy him dinner and before Mark could even answer, he was dragged out of the practice room by the older male and to the parking lot where Yuta’s yellow Lamborghini was parked at. The striking color and the extravagance of the car had stood out so much they were getting stares and whispers all around them. And maybe some of them were for Yuta's good looks, Mark wasn’t very sure.

Then, Yuta had driven them to a grand hotel that’s located in the most expensive area of Gangnam - somewhere Mark would never voluntarily visit.

Yuta had to drag Mark behind him because the younger had refused to enter the high rise building, thinking it was a prank that Yuta was playing. 

"Mark, why are you just standing there?" Yuta had asked as he stood at the entrance of the hotel, staring at the younger male who was (forced) out of the car by the valet parker, who also drove the Lambhorgini away after Yuta gave him the car key. Mark stayed rooted to the road.

"Why-why are we here?" Mark eyed his senior with reluctance and suspicion. An _exorbitant and majestic_ hotel is definitely not the first place one would think of when they speak about having dinner.

A man in a black suit the title “Hotel General Manager” printed in bold on his name tag, jumped to greet both of them as they stepped out of the lift, 55 floors off the ground.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Nakamoto, a table for...two?” 

Yuta shot him an unexplainable look, paused, and nodded. Dozens and tons of approaching footsteps clip-clopped down the wooden tile hallway, Mark subconsciously glanced behind him, there was a huge line of guards who lined up perfectly behind him that he never noticed until now. _Holy shit, they looked...frightening. How long had they been here?_ They weren't with him when they took the lift. 

Okay, now Mark was evidently in shock. Yuta had walked into this huge grand and posh restaurant, looking like he owned the place and all. Let’s say he’s really someone of importance and had the Hotel Manager greeting him like he’s a big shot, then how is he going to explain all the guards escorting him?

He knew Yuta was rich, he had seen him, together with WinWin, Ten, and Johnny using branded goods, he also saw his lavish, bright Lamborghini, but how is it going to explain the guards following them and the attitude of the Hotel Manager (who had bowed a total of 5 times and apologized consecutively for 12 times since the moment they had walked in, which Mark totaled)?

“Anything that caught your eyes? Mark?” Yuta asked, staring straight at Mark who had been nervously flipping through the menu for the sixth time. 

It wasn’t exaggerating at all to say that the price of one single item could easily surpass four or five days of his bills for food. The food aside, the few decorations and ornaments that accessorized their table probably cost more than any of his possessions. This was a whole different universe than the one he had been living in.

“I- I, um, I’ll have a...cup of water?” Mark meekly answered, cowering and shrinking smaller in his seat as Yuta bore his gaze into him. He shyly used the menu to cover his face.

He heard Yuta lightly laugh and waved the Manager over (who was heard sprinting down the corridor and entering the sliding doors).

“ _Kaiseki-ryouri o futatsu kudasai_ ,” Yuta ordered, his fingers showing a “two” sign. The manager bowed respectfully to him before answering something in Japanese back, which Mark wasn’t able to catch.

Mark peered at Yuta curiously, “So, what’d you ordered?”

Yuta simply took a sip out of the traditional teacup before sweeping his hair back casually, an unintentional action that may have made Mark’s heart skip a beat or two, and winked secretively. “You’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hEY! Just a small, short chapters, but an exciting one nonetheless! Have a great weekend & upcoming week <3
> 
> Comments will be greatly appreciated!
> 
> Love, love,  
> Devil's Soulmate  
> (｀∀´)Ψ


	4. THE SHIMURA CLAN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//Blood, Gore, Violence

Mark wondered if Yuta was trying to overfeed him or something. Or his poverty was reeking off him to the point Yuta felt obligated to buy him food or something. Approximately three or four courses of the meal had come and it didn’t look like it was ending any time soon. Mark wasn’t complaining though, all of them taste amazing, and it was one of those delicacies you know it’s something you only get to eat once in your lifetime. He tried to savor all of the taste and the flavor with each bite he took.

“ _Kaiseki-ryouri_ ,” Yuta had explained, “is a traditional multi-course dinner prepared by a chef with selected seasonal ingredients.”

Mark gobbled down a piece of meat from his Seasonal Platter, “how many numbers of courses are they serving?”

“I don’t know,” Yuta shrugged, “it depends fully on the chef, all the dishes are selected by them.”

Yuta quietly picked up the roasted Kameoka beef and pickled akagai clams from his own platter and put them on Mark’s plate. The younger had chosen not to say anything, but Yuta’s actions had not gone unnoticed.

After the seasonal platter, they were served with the Sashimi Plate, each premium piece meticulously presented, like beautiful ornaments that looked too precious to be eaten. This time, too, Yuta gave Mark half of what he had on his plate. In his peripheral view, he saw that Yuta had eaten a few pieces of Sashimi but spent the rest of the time watching him eat, which made Mark puzzled because he was the one who had been complaining about being hungry.

Mark barely finished what he had on the table when the sixth course of the dish was served. It was the Seasonal Fish Course. Once again, Yuta split almost half of his rosy seabass and put them on Mark’s plate, urging the younger to eat.

That’s it, Mark can no longer contain his curiosity.

“Hyung,” Mark began as he placed his chopstick down, “You said you were hungry, why are you giving me all your food?”

Yuta stared at him with an unreadable expression before breaking into a sweet, yet flirtatious smile.

“Because I feel full from just watching you eat.”

Gosh, that suggestive comment made Mark blushed all the way from his chest to his ears.

“Hyung~” Mark whined cutely, which earned himself a round of affectionate laughter from the other. 

The partition door slid open and Mark automatically assumed it was the waiter who was here for their new course of the meal, He leaned to the side to allow him to put the plates and bowls down.

However, instead of the waiter, Mark saw that it was one of the few guards who followed them in from outside the restaurant.

The atmosphere was tense, and Mark found himself studying the stranger as much as he was studying him. The only difference between them was that Mark was curious as to why the guard was here, and the guard seemed to be _cautious_ that Mark was here.

“Why are you here and who are you under?” The question from Yuta was sharp and obnoxious, he sounded displeased and irritated. “Don’t you know that I’m with a guest right now?”

Mark winced unconsciously, and the guard visibly gulped. This was a whole new sight of Yuta that Mark was seeing. 

“I’m K-Kei, and I’m under Team Tanaka!” 

“So why the hell is Tanaka not here?”

It was as if this man who sat in front was a whole new identity from the sweet, flirtatious, and humorous Yuta. From the side of his eyes, Tanaka’s hands were trembling behind his back, and that sight sent chills down Mark’s back. 

_What’s going on?_

“I’m really s-sorry, S-sir Nakamoto, the...the”, The guard started stuttering like a broken record. He stole a few wary glances at Mark, unsure of whether he should continue what he was saying.

The tension in the room was palpable, Mark could cut the air with a butter knife. He felt like he didn’t belong there, he felt like he needed to leave. There were needles on his butt that urged him to leave, but he was afraid of attracting the attention to himself, so instead, he allowed himself to fidget uncomfortably in his seat.

The silence irked Yuta to no end. He slammed his hand on the table, which made both the guard and Mark jumped from the loudness and the suddenness. “Speak!”

“The Shimura Clan is here!” Kei blabbered out, fear audible in his shaky voice.

If it wasn’t obvious that Yuta was angry, the white knuckles on his clenched fist were a great indicator that he was, indeed, furious. How dare anyone ruin his dinner date. Mark tried to look away from Yuta’s shaking hands and held back all the urge to hold them with his own. He momentarily wondered if Yuta would’ve calmed down if he did that. Still, the younger male refused to acknowledge how _hot_ Yuta was when he was angry, he simply _refused_ to engage with that thought that had been floating in his head for a while.

“Bring him to Kentaro and get him to send him back,” Yuta ordered, his eyes went from the guard, named Kei, and back to Mark, which made the younger cower under his intimidating scrutiny, “then bring Mr. Shimura in.”

_Ken-Kentaro?_ That was one...oddly familiar name...

“Yes, sir!” Kei obeyed. Mark felt his legs wobble as he tried to stand up from his seat. He questioned if it was caused by sitting cross-legged for too long, or the fear he was experiencing. Maybe both.

Mark meekly followed Kei out of the room, all the while feeling Yuta’s eyes boring into the back of his head. He wanted to ask Kei what was going on, who is this “Shimura clan” that is looking for Yuta, and who and _what_ Yuta is. Instead, Mark had chosen to read the room and kept his mouth shut.

“Mr. Lee, that would be Kentaro and he would be sending you home,” Kei stopped in his tracks and pointed to another young guard who was standing right outside the lift, looking as if he had been expecting Mark’s unannounced arrival.

Mark followed his eyes to where Kei and…

His head blanked as he stared ahead. It was as if his brain had dysfunction. Kentaro’s face just seemed to spark a suppressed memory of Mark. It was as if he had _already_ seen this person.

“Mr. Lee?” Kei called as he waved a hand in front of him. Mark snapped out of his trance and thanked him before walking towards Kentaro. He _had_ seen this man before, but _when_?

“You’re Kentaro?” Mark stood a good distance between him and the guard, his designated driver who’s apparently named Kentaro. 

Kentaro smiled back, the dimples on his cheeks deepened. “Yes, Mr. Lee, I’m Kentaro.”

Mark contemplated for a while.

“Have we- Have we met before?”

Kentaro looked to the ground shortly before going back to Mark, his smile not faltering. There was a glint of mischief and curiosity in his eyes that Mark could comprehend. And above that, a hint of familiarity that Mark was unable to pinpoint.

“I’m not sure, Mr. Lee,” Kentaro replied, his voice heavily laced with playfulness, “Have we?”

* * *

Yuta’s _W_ _akagashira_ , his second in command, and his _S_ _hategashira_ , his lieutenant, stood protectively on both sides. Yuta paid them no mind as he drank the remaining tea in his teacup. He hated his tea cold.

_Wham!_ The sliding doors flew open before the head of the Shimura clan, a balding old man with a belly beer and an ugly scar across his cheek, strode into the room. His own men and guards marched in behind him, filling in the empty spaces in the dining area. It was a miracle how Yuta nor his underlings flinched or jumped as if they had expected that.

“Yuta Nakamoto,” his gruff voice scornful and hateful, “You motherfucker!”

His _wakagashira_ and _shategashira_ instinctively placed their hands on the grips of the guns that were tucked neatly under the holsters under their belts, threatening to eliminate any form of threat towards the young master of the Nakamoto clan. Yuta raised his hands to stop them before leaning back onto his chair with grace as if he hadn’t heard or noticed the profanity and rudeness of the new guest. 

“Mind your language, _Mr. Shimura_ ,” he reminded, speaking his name with a new level of false respectfulness.

“What the fuck did you do to my clan in Korea?!” Mr. Shimura yelled, slamming his fist onto the table angrily, the veins on his forehead threatening to burst as his face was dyed red with anger. Yuta could see flames and smoke coming out of his eyes and ears. The sight made him want to laugh. But for the honor of the Nakamoto family, he allowed himself a scornful, mirthless smile, and that annoyed Mr. Shimura to no end. 

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Yuta raised an eyebrow threateningly, his calm voice authoritative and humorless, “You touch one of my men, and I’ll destroy all of yours.”

“That was one year ago! My men did nothing! And yet!” The bald man roared angrily. “And yet! You had all their fingers removed, you destroyed all five of my drug factories and three of my weapon manufacturing units after you burnt all organ shipments down! Even those not in your territory! You tyrant!”

Mr. Shimura raised his feet and kicked the short-legged dining table across the room. The wooden furniture clashed into the wall with a loud clunk, all the bowls and plates shattered into porcelain fragments. Yuta ignored that, his eagle eyes trained on the clan leader in front of him.

“You- Argh!”

The old man couldn’t get another word out. He wanted to. But he _couldn’t_.

Before anyone had time to blink, Yuta’s lieutenant had pinned the bald man onto the ground, both of his hands restrained painfully behind his back and a gun pointed threateningly to the back of his shiny scalp. Of course, the guards and underlings of the Shimura clan wouldn’t sit still. All of them had their guns out and pointed towards Yuta and his men.

Yuta simply smiled. He knew they wouldn’t shoot. Unless they want the biggest _Yakuza_ clan of Japan to go after them, not to mention, their family members. He elegantly jumped to his feet and dusted the non-existent dirt off him, before pacing towards Mr. Shimura’s restricted body. He held his hand out and his _W_ _akagashira_ handed him a dagger, the “NAKAMOTO” symbol carved along the blade sophisticatedly. What a pity to dirty such a beautiful emblem with the blood of another low life.

His lieutenant kneeled on Mr. Shimura’s back and he pulled the old man’s right hand out from his grip and slammed them on the floor, cuffing his struggling wrist onto the refined ceramic tiles with his death grip as his young master approached them.

“Your men did nothing?” Yuta repeated with a venom-filled tone. His laughing eyes were replaced with a pair of dark, solemn ones. Fierce, uncompromising wrath radiating off them.

_“Please, please let me go!”_

_“They’re going to capture me! Let me go! Please!”_

Mark’s cries of help reverberated in his ears like a clap of thunder, such was his desperation and despair. 

“How dare you say that your men did nothing!” 

It was a roar of pure anger. Yuta plunged the dagger straight into three finger joints of Mr. Shimura, whose eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile. There was a scream from deep within that forces its way from his mouth, it was as if his terrified soul had unleashed a demon.

* * *

It had been almost three weeks since Mark last saw Yuta. Truth to be told, he was starting to miss him, but Mark would never take the initiative to text first, simply because he thought that it was inappropriate, considering how they had parted _weirdly._

On top of that, Mark had felt extremely upset over the fact that Yuta had not texted to explain himself. Or just...text him for the sake of texting him. He was usually not one who waits for someone else to text first, but with Yuta, it’s different.

To counter that feeling of yearning and growing emptiness in him, Mark had resorted to doing every single thing under the sun to distract himself from it. And it included gaming with Lucas, playing a few extra basketball games with Chenle, and bantering with Renjun for the sake of it. It was _killing him._

“Guys!” Renjun gasped as he shot up from Lucas’s bed, “the Chinese restaurant across our school has a 1-for-1 promotion!”

Yeap, the other two had come over to their room, once again. Chenle and Lucas gaming on their laptops and Renjun was browsing every platform for meal deals, again. And Mark, he was back on making a new track just so he doesn’t have to deal with his thoughts and feelings, that screamed especially loud when it’s late and when he’s about to fall asleep.

“Why? You wanna go?” Chenle asked half-heartedly, eyes not moving from his laptop screen.

Renjun nodded eagerly, “yes! Can we? It’s been a while since we had Chinese!”

“Yea, sure, fine, your treat though,” said Chenle.

Renjun held himself back from smacking the younger across the head. “You’re the richest among us!”

“Okay,” Lucas answered with a huge “OK” sign amidst all the Renjun-Chenle shenanigans.

Mark nodded too. He’s fine with anything as long as there’s no ketchup.

The Chinese restaurant was crowded. Honestly, crowded was an understatement. Understandably though, university students would jump on any promotion deals, so it wasn’t really a surprise that they were told that they had to queue for a good one hour for their table.

By the time they finished their dinner, it was close to 10 p.m.

“Renjun! Lucas! Mark! Chenle!” Someone from the back called them. They turned behind and saw another international student from China, Mark, and Lucas’s classmate, also a game-player from Chenle and Lucas’s team.

“Yo, Hendery!” Lucas hollered as the latter ran up to give him a pound hug.

“Where’d you guys going?” Hendery asked a wide smile spread across his face. Mark couldn’t help but marvel at how this friend from Macau could transform from a prince to looking like the donkey from Shrek in mere milliseconds.

“Going back to the dorm. How 'bout you?” This time it was Renjun who replied to him.

Hendery shrugged cutely, “I’m meeting Xiao-Jun at the Internet cafe now. They’re offering a Happy-Hour-Deal for just 1,707 won! Isn’t that cheap!”

“Holy shit! That’s a great deal! I wanna go!” Chenle shrieked with excitement twinkling in his eyes.

“C’mon! Renjun, Lucas, and Mark! It’s Friday, and there won’t be any curfew!!” Hendery invited with his arms wide open. “Let’s go for a game or two!”

He’s right. Their university had no curfew for Friday and weekends to accommodate the flight schedules of international students, some of them who fly back and forth from their home country frequently during weekends.

Lucas pumped his fist into the air cheerfully, “I’m in!”

“Alright, I’m sold!” Renjun sighed with a slight smile, no one could reject a 1,707 won deal. “Mark, let’s go!”

All four heads stared at Mark expectantly, waiting for him to agree and go with them. But Mark, he just wasn’t in the mood lately. Not with whatever that’s going on with his life too. He just wanted to go back, and maybe wallow in self-pity. Maybe not even that. Probably play some guitar and wait for inspiration to hit him like a truck for a new song.

He forced a smile to his face, which he silently prayed that it looked natural enough for them to leave him be. He also didn’t think it’s the right time for him to disclose this to his friend. He would very much prefer to keep this to himself, for now.

“Guys, go ahead without me! I still have a shit ton of homework I needa catch up on!” Mark replied, feigning cheerfulness.

“Are you sure?” Lucas asked worriedly, “Are you sick? Do you want me to go back with you?”

Of course, Mark wouldn’t be a killjoy for Lucas, especially this Giant Baby had seemed so excited to visit the Internet cafe.

“I’m fine! Have fun on my behalf!”

Feeling extremely tired, drained, and sleepy, he felt like an oddball for walking in the opposite direction from all his schoolmates who were either going to the nightclub that had a Friday’s Deal going on, or the Internet Cafe, which also had a promotion deal going on. Well, he never knew nightlife outside of school was so active and it made him feel lowkey left out for not feeling the same excitement as the rest of them. 

Speaking of that nightclub...Gosh, Mark would prefer not to think about it. It still made him shudders at how he was so close to death. If it wasn’t for his savior from the club, he would probably be dead by now. Mark took one last longing glance at that illuminated nightclub before turning around the corner that led him straight to his university. 

The university student had to do a double-take before he missed out a certain suited man standing at the end of the street, staring at him.

Usually, Mark would pay people like him no attention, but the way he was dressed reminded him of the guards that followed Yuta. He must be losing his mind. Now, even strangers look like Yuta’s men.

He would have ignored him _if_ he hadn't been staring at him so intensely, making him extremely nervous. Mark quickened his pace, heart started thumping furiously against his chest as he almost started running towards his campus gate. His hunch had been proven right when the suited man started matching up his pace too.

Okay fuck, he should’ve followed his friends to the Internet cafe.

The adrenaline in him demanded that he run, right now, no delay. The cold evening air shocked his throat and lungs as he inhaled deeper, faster. Behind him, he could hear the heels of the suited man following closely behind him.

“Mr. Lee! I have something to tell you!” The man shouted. Once bitten, twice shy, Mark heard him, but he chose to ignore it. The last time he did respond to one, he was almost murdered by a group of men.

“Mr. Lee! Wait!” The man yelled again. “I work for Sir Nakamoto!”

Okay, that properly got Mark’s attention. He slowed his running and then stopped somewhere brighter and more populated. Coughing and gasping for air, he turned behind to face the man who had been chasing him.

Now that he’s closer, Mark could see the same pendant that Yuta wore on him. Except that Yuta’s one was gold and this man had a bronze one. Mark pondered on whether the material of the necklace had some sort of hierarchical meaning or something like that.

Watching the man come closer and closer had brought Mark a wave of panic, he held both of his arms up to stop the man from where he was, which was close to two feet away from him. They had been running for a while, and Mark would consider his stamina to be great, but this man, he was barely panting or tired. 

“Stop! Just speak from there!” Mark cried out, making sure that he had enough exit routes to turn to if this man had chosen to abduct him or something.

The man obeyed. He stood where he was and stared the younger down with the same intensity. The kind that made Mark uneasy.

“Who are you! Why are you following me!” Mark yelled again. If this man didn't stop doing this, he would run.

“I’m here to warn you, Mr. Lee,” The man finally said. There was an earnestness in his voice, and also honesty. Mark pulled his eyebrows together, visibly puzzled.

“Warn me? What for?”

The man swallowed, not sure out of nervousness or dry mouth. “Sir Nakamoto Yuta, he’s...he’s not someone you can mess with.”

Mark knew _that_ much. Yuta had a _certain side_ to him that made him different from every other man. Like he’s hiding something in plain sight. And strangely enough, Mark wanted to peel off all the layers and see what he was hiding. That’s the Yuta Mark yearned for.

“I know,” Mark answered, anger and annoyance on his face and in his voice, “You don’t have to come all the way here to tell me who I can or who I cannot make friends with.”

“No! You don’t understand!” The man yelled, almost desperately, “he could-he could kill you if he wanted to!”

_What nonsense is this man spewing at?_

“I’ve heard your advice and I’ve also decided not to heed it,” Mark answered coldly before turning on his heel and walked away.

_Who the fuck does he think he is?_

“You’ll regret it!”

Mark had to hold himself back from turning behind and flip him a middle finger.

He had thought that this would be one of those bollocks and craps that wouldn’t stay in his mind for more than five minutes. But he was wrong. Like, dead, dead wrong.

Because he found himself repeating and thinking about the man’s words over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeyyyy
> 
> Happy Mid-Week!!
> 
> Lowkey one of my favorite chapters to write. Hope you'll enjoy Sinister Yuta as much as I did!
> 
> Leave me some comments (◕︿◕✿)
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate  
> ψ(｀∇´)ψ


	5. KISS & MELT AWAY

_ “Kentaro, send him back.” _

_ “Sir, after you.”  _

Wait.

_ “Kentaro, send him back.” _

_ “Sir, after you.”  _

What?

_ “Kentaro, send him back.” _

_ “Sir, after you.”  _

Stop.

_ “Kentaro, send him back.” _

_ “Sir, after you.”  _

STOP- Eyes snapped open, Mark found himself covered in a cold sweat, shaking, heart pounding. He swallowed the lump down his throat as he sat up looking around the room, suspicious and paranoid.

The dream, the dream had stopped for so long. That incident happened over a year ago, it shouldn’t come back again. He closed his eyes and attempted to shake the voices in his ahead.

Then, something clicked.

“Kentaro,” Mark whispered, “send him back?”

_ Kentaro, send- Kentaro. Kentaro. Kentaro. _

Now,  _ know this. _ That day when Mark was leaving the club with the guard behind him, he had  _ seen  _ him. The guard had walked him out of the club  _ and  _ sent him home. He  _ had  _ seen him.

Now he knew why the name was so familiar. Now he knew where he had seen that dimpled guard from. And he’s flabbergasted to why and how it took him so long to piece one and one together.

Yuta...Yuta...Oh god, Mark felt extreme pain in his head. Pounding, throbbing, like a toothache in his brain, right between the eyes, like it’s splitting open.

Though there appeared to be nothing but open space around, he got the feeling of suffocation, like his lungs are caving in. He felt trapped, imprisoned in his own loop of thoughts in his mind.

Acknowledging that he could no longer fall back to sleep, Mark pulled the comforter off his body and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to go away. Lucas barely budged from all his stomping as he staggered out of his bed, and then out of his room. He needed to get more fresh air.

There was nothing outside but darkness speckled by the moon, but at least it was not the kind of absolute blackness that swallowed a whole human, but a darkened landscape drawn in gray-scale instead. The cold breeze blew right through Mark's sweater and he immediately regretted not wearing something thicker or bringing a jacket with him. On a better note, he did feel better than he was in his room.

Mark definitely found comfort through the moonlight and silence. They helped him organize his thoughts. He found himself a seat under one of the big oak tree at the back of the small park. It had been a while since he last visited this place, and yet, it still provided him the same serenity as before.

“Mark, stop running away from your thoughts…” he whispered to no one particular but himself. He  **needed** to face it.

Yuta was not just Johnny’s rich international friend, Yuta was not just a playful and yet, extremely caring senior, Yuta was not just a rich and pretty boy, Yuta was, however, the Japanese stranger who saved him one year ago.

Putting all the evidence out, Mark tried to list out the possibilities of what and who Yuta could be. A celebrity from Japan? That couldn’t be possible, he would’ve known him if he was one. Son of a billionaire? That could be possible, but something just...don't feel this  _ clean _ . Mark wracked his brain even more. What else. What else?  _ Son of wanted people? Wait a whole damn minute. Jesus fucking Christ.  _ Satoshi Nakamoto. Yuta could very well be the son of the creator of bitcoin. But still, the inventor of bitcoin is still a mystery and Mark doubted such a man would put his name out there so blatantly. That could only attract the attention of authorities and criminals.

He weighed his choices again. The biggest and the most plausible option, he realized, was that Yuta could very highly possibly be a son of a politician or a conglomerate. That could explain the wealth, that could explain the number of men that worked for Yuta, and that could explain his status and importance.

Regardless of whether his guess was right, Mark finally understood what that man said. Yuta _could_ kill him if he wanted to. And he knew that because he had seen it.

He had seen how those thugs went on their knees and begged for their lives. He had seen how violent his guards could be, even though Mark had a hunch that that was on the mild side of whatever more they were capable of doing.

His head throbbed. On one hand, he knew the danger. He knew what he would be putting himself into if he continued to hang around Yuta. There might be a danger, a danger far more severe than whatever he could have imagined. On the other hand, he felt so, so, so deprived of Yuta. He’s  _ Yuta-deprived _ . He had been thinking, wishing, and  _ aching _ to meet him. 

There is just so much that he had to consider, and all of them seemed so contradictory and painful.

Mark did what he thought he had to, more driven by impulses as he felt both fearful and anxious. He whipped his phone out and called Yuta.

The other end of the line rang forever. Mark doesn’t blame him; it was dead of the night, no one would’ve been on the right mind to stay awake-

“Hello? Mark?”

He could feel his heartbeat…every single pound in his chest. Just Yuta’s voice alone was enough to make him feel fuller, more complete.

Mark paused to take a deep breath before replying.

“Yuta-Hyung.”

Yuta might have heard the reluctance in Mark’s voice because he grew audibly concerned.

“Mark? Is something wrong? Do you need me to loo-”

“I missed you!” Mark blurted out. He hadn’t meant to do that, but the way Yuta was speaking to him, it was as if the older man had missed him too. Like he cared for him the way he did to him and it was...it was overwhelming.

But, dear God. He’s blushing right now. He had just said something that’s close to a confession and Yuta...Yuta was not replying. Fuck, did he scare Yuta away? Shall he hang up and lie to him in the morning that it was a sleepwalking habit that he had developed? Crap, did he just messed up his relationship with Yuta-

“Mark,” Yuta finally replied. Mark squeezed his eyes shut, he had truly messed up. Holding his breath, he waited for Yuta to continue his speech, telling him that he only treated him like a younger brother and watching their friendships crumble before his eyes.

“I miss you, too.”

_ Wait- What? _

“So-sorry?”

“I said I miss you too,” Yuta repeated. Mark could hear the adoration in his voice, the one he had used it with him all the time, and oh gosh, how Mark loved it. “Would you like to meet up with me?”

“Of course! I’ll like to!” Mark almost yelled immediately. How could he not? Yuta was heard chuckling at the other line of the phone.

“Okay,” He agreed, “Go to sleep, Mark, it’s almost 4 am soon and you have class in the morning. I’ll meet you in the afternoon.”

* * *

Mark wanted to cry. This ginormous traditional Japanese style mansion that stood in the middle of nowhere of Korea was staring down at him, calling him broke in a language he barely understood. In Mark’s dictionary, he would very much describe this as a palace rather than a mansion. It was beautiful. Like, breathtakingly beautiful. Especially under the fervent sun and bright purple Wisteria trees. The whole establishment was a perfect mixture of golden traditional contemporary Japanese art on black background. If Mark could think of simple words to describe it - elegant, mysterious, and extremely _illegal_ , however, you want to interpret that.

Mark was walking back to his dormitory with Lucas when a suited man approached him, and the taller male had instantaneously moved in front of him protectively. The suited man, supposedly only a few years older than him, paid no mind to their behaviors.

“Mr. Lee, I am Hiroshi,” the suited man said politely, “I am here on behalf of Sir Nakamoto, please follow me.”

Mark peered over Lucas's shoulder, who was still standing tall as if he could intimidate the guard, and as he expected, he saw a similar “NAKAMOTO” pendant on the man, this time not a necklace but in the form of a suit brooch.

“Lucas, Lucas,” Mark half-whispered as he tapped his shoulder, “It’s okay, I know...I know him.”

_Okay, that sounded weird but whatever._ Lucas stepped aside and watched him with a suspicious look.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?”

Mark shook his head and patted his shoulder comfortingly with a small smile.

“Don’t worry about me, man. I’ll be fine!”

Lucas still had some suspicion left, but he had chosen to trust his friend. “Okay, do you have your phone with you?”

“Yes, yes. Fully charged too. Thanks, man.”

And now he stood meekly behind the chauffeur and Hiroshi who brought him there. They had driven out of town and into somewhere more remote and deserted. When the over-expensive black car had steered towards a forest that he had no idea existed in Seoul, Mark even contemplated calling Lucas or jumping out of the moving car, but his curiosity overrode his fear and he chose to stay put.

Outside the huge gate stood more than five guards, armed. Mark had seen guns when one of them lifted their hands to speak into the tactical earpiece. He involuntarily shuddered as he speculated that the suited man who sat in the passenger seat in front of him was armed too.

“After you, Mr. Lee,” Hiroshi bowed, his arm motioning Mark towards the grandiose stone staircase that led to a double sliding door with a pair of gigantic golden dragon plaques carved into it. Mark stared at him with fearful, unblinking eyes. 

He didn’t really want to admit out loud, but the whole architect and the number of armed men are starting to freak him out. And he especially didn’t want to walk at the front by himself up towards the intimidating structure that stared down at him.

“Mr. Hiroshi, can you...can you go first? I’m…” Mark paused. He wasn’t sure what else to say. That he’s scared? That he’s a coward? That his knees are going to give in anytime with the number of people who are capable of hurting him?

Hiroshi didn’t seem to mind his incomplete sentences, he simply nodded with a polite smile, “That would be no problem, Mr. Lee.”

Mark trudged closely behind the older suited male, constantly eyeballing other people around him wearily, as if afraid that they would hurt him or something. As they reached the huge doors, two other guards slid the huge door open for the two of them, revealing an interior Mark had never seen before.

It was huge,  _ tremendously  _ huge. It was so spacious it made Mark question whether or not he was hallucinating. He stood frozen at the front entrance to marvel and admire the dimly lit room.

The same pair of dragons stood right smack in the middle of the entrance that resembled more like a hall or an atrium, except this time, they were golden statues three or four times his size than just life-size metal plates. Both were terrifying to Mark, he had never seen anything like this before. The few bonsai that decorated the place looked like they cost more than Mark’s entire net worth and the whole structure was supported by extremely beautifully carved stone pillars and the university student can’t help but gawk at the meticulous designs. 

Before the statues, a short-legged table and two cushions were placed before it, and Mark refused to imagine whoever might be the one to sit on this. On the two sides of the hall were another two sets of grand, carpeted imperial staircases that Mark had no idea where they led to. Hiroshi stood beside Mark and bowed slightly, his arms motioned him to the left side of the staircase and finally, he had decided to move his limbs that stayed rooted in the ground.

“Mr. Hiroshi, can I ask you a question?” Mark asked carefully and timidly as he stopped mid-way on the stairs, waiting for the suited guard to catch up from behind him. Hiroshi gave him the same polite smile and nodded.

“Go ahead, Mr. Lee.”

“Um,” Mark bit his lips, “Where are we?”

Hiroshi seemed taken aback by his sudden question, he stared at Mark momentarily before bursting into a gentle chuckle. Mark made a mental note at how this was the first time Hiroshi had shown him more than just a polite smile that day.

“This,” Hiroshi answered, his eyes twinkling with amusement, “is the Nakamoto Manor.”

Okay, Mark got that so far. He waited for the older male to continue on.

“This place, other than providing the Nakamotos a place for residency, it also serves as the headquarter for the Yaku-,” Hiroshi paused mid-way, pressing a fist embarrassingly on his lips before correcting himself, “I mean, the headquarter for the organized forces of Mr. Nakamoto, Young Master Yuta’s father”

Mark caught that. He knew it wasn’t a mistake. But he also wasn’t as well-educated or well-informed to understand more than what Hiroshi had told him.

“Organised forces? What do they do here?” Mark continued asking. The maroon red carpet beneath his feet resembled the color of blood and he grimaced at that thought.

“Well,” Hiroshi contemplated on his choices of words, “they do hold some meetings here.”

Sensing his reluctance, Mark decided not to press on. 

“I see.” He nodded absentmindedly.

The second floor wasn’t as overwhelming with the entire floor made of wood, expensive wood, of course. On the left of the corridor were smaller carpeted areas, huge golden “NAKAMOTO” written in Kanji as the same way on Yuta’s pendant, printed over the red velvet carpets, partitioned with Japanese folding screens, bearing decorative painting and calligraphy; it looked like it was built and designed for smaller, informal meetings. On the right side of the corridor sat a whole stretch of bookshelves. Some of them were English, which Mark could tell, some of them were Korean, and the majority of them in Japanese.

It was vexing how he felt like he had been walking for what seemed like an eternity, but Yuta was still nowhere to be seen. He wondered if this was the environment that Yuta grew up in; rigid, suffocating, political, and formal. He felt his heart aching for him.

They went up a floor higher, where it felt more spacious, open, and bright. If Mark could even put it,  _ homely.  _ It felt more liveable and cozy, more comfortable, and more  _ civilized. _

Hiroshi stopped behind one of the room, the plate beside the left sliding door wrote “悠太”, which Mark just assumed it’s read as “Yuta”.

“This is the Young Master’s room,” Hiroshi announced, “He had been expecting you.”

Mark swallowed. He had known Yuta for a while, but meeting him always made him so nervous and jittery. He reached out a hand and knocked on the wooden part of the door softly.

“Yuta-Hyung, I’m Mark.” Not waiting for Yuta to reply, Mark, opened the door himself. He might have done it on impulse again, but he was  _ dying _ to see him.

Yuta was sitting alone on his balcony, facing the purple Wisteria tree outside and lost in his own thoughts. The sight of this picturesque-beauty made the soft panic in Mark fade. His ethereal charm made him so inhuman; this love, this feeling, just between Mark and Yuta.

“Yuta-Hyung,” Mark called out again, his breath hitched as he watched the older male turn around to face him. A wide, gentle grin spread across his face as he eyed him lovingly. 

“Mark!” He exclaimed, jumping onto his feet as he welcomed the younger male with a tight hug, “You’re here!”

Mark felt himself melting into his hug. In his embrace, the world stopped still on its axis. There was no time, no wind, no rain. Mark's mind was finally at peace.

“You must be tired from all the traveling,” Yuta said as he pulled away. He then reached up to ruffle his hair cutely.

Yuta seemed more endearing and sweet as compared to all the other times he had met him, and it made his heart melt into a pile of goo. Despite knowing their strength and power differences, Mark had the urge to grab Yuta and run away, protecting and shielding him from whatever life he was living in.

Yuta’s room was huge, of course, it was. But as compared to the traditional design of the premise, his room looked more like a fusion between modern minimalist and traditional Japanese style. Mark had expected a futon, but instead, it was a huge comfortable white bed. Other than that, a low, wooden table sat in the middle of the room, right above the heat source, which Mark didn’t expect Yuta to use during such hot summer.

Mark took a seat on one of the cushions and admired the room, occasionally fanning himself with the neckline part of his white T-shirt. Everything was tidy, except some parts were more out of place, and the tardiness of Yuta brought a smile to Mark’s face. It was especially enchanting to see something so familiar and intimate in a setting where everything was so orderly and stringent. 

“Ack!” Mark yelped as he grabbed onto his neck with surprise. Yuta had pulled an ice-cream cone out of his white mini-fridge, that blended perfectly well into his room, and pressed them against Mark’s neck. Yuta laughed freely at Mark’s reaction, who sulked like a child as he snatched the ice cream off from Yuta’s hand.

“Hyung!” Mark whined with a light pout, which only made Yuta laugh harder at his dramatic reactions.

They sat in silence and occasional conversation before Yuta pointed on his upper lips. Mark stared at him dumbly.

“Sorry?”

Yuta continued to point on his upper lips, “your lips,” he said, “there’s ice cream.”

Mark licked his lip at where Yuta had mentioned. “Is it gone?”

Yuta shook his head, “no, the other side.”

Mark tried again, albeit clumsily. Before he could ask Yuta if the remnants were still there, a hand had reached over and pulled his chin towards where Yuta was. Mark didn’t dare to move, he didn’t even dare to breathe, he stayed frozen to the spot as he allowed Yuta to pull him towards him. He could feel his own heart pounding in his chest, each time louder than the first. Yuta grinned softly down at him as if he could hear the cacophonous thrumming rhythm that echoed in Mark’s chest.

The latter’s cheeks blushed three shades deeper before Yuta licked his own lips slightly before pressing them onto Mark’s. He could feel the younger’s body tensed up slightly before relaxing into his touch. Mark could feel Yuta slowly licking and kissing the top of his lips, the bottom of his lips, and then he tasted the vanilla and chocolatey taste from the tongue between his own lips.

Yuta felt his heart quickened to a comfortable pace and it was a weird feeling. It felt as if everything was where they were supposed to be. He felt perfection. Mark Lee is perfect.

At first, it was one of those sweet kisses, but Yuta’s lips and tongue movements were definitely driving Mark crazy. He parted his lips slightly and allowed the older’s entry to his mouth, then, slowly and gently, he found himself playing with Yuta’s tongue. The latter chuckled slightly as he leaned in further, immersing himself in the younger’s playfulness. 

Mark felt Yuta’s hand move up from chin to cupping his jaw and tilting his face up slightly. He soon realized their tongues were engaging in a slow, yet passionate dance. Every twist and turns made the fireworks in Mark stronger and eager. Mark felt paradise on Earth if Yuta was not already an angel to him. 

Like the ice-cream thawing in Mark’s grip, he felt himself melting into Yuta’s kiss.

Yuta was the one who pulled away first, presumably sensing how the younger was suffocating from the lack of breath. Their breaths mingled as they pant, staring straight into each other’s eyes. Mark’s heart fluttered inside his chest. He smiled giddily at the older, Yuta chuckled at him as he stroked Mark’s cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oH MY gOD tHEy kISSed.
> 
> Have we won? We have.
> 
> Have a great weekend and a great week, y'all :')
> 
> Comments greatly appreciated!! Leave them leave them!
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	6. NEW MISSION

After staying up almost till dawn, the lethargy took over and Mark had fallen asleep on Yuta’s huge, comfortable, white bed. At first, Yuta thought they'd be able to progress somewhere further than just a kiss, but Mark seemed too innocent to catch his hint, and Yuta chose not to press on. It’s his innocence that made him so much more endearing.

5:34 P.M, the digital clock on his nightstand read. He sat on the floor, by the foot of his bed and sighed involuntarily as he glanced at Mark’s peaceful sleeping form. If he had a choice, he would very much prefer to keep this beautiful soul by his side. 

Falling in love with him was not planned. They were supposed to be friends; senior and junior; just Mark and him and nothing in between. However, ever since his dark brown eyes locked with his hazel-brown ones, his pale, graceful hand brushed against his slender and calloused ones, and when his dark-chocolate like voice reached his ears, Yuta knew he had been blessed with a true lover.

“Young Master? You need to get ready for the meeting soon.” The voice of his personal secretary could be heard from outside of his room. He pressed his lips into a firm line before climbing onto the bed and hovering over the sleeping figure.

“Mark~” Yuta cooed gently as he ruffled the golden-brown hair. “Wake up~”

“Nnnggghhh.” Mark buried himself deeper into Yuta’s woolen blanket and whined softly.

The older male chuckled. As much as he would love to climb under the blanket and hold Mark in his embrace and fall asleep with him, he had a dinner meeting with _someone_ at 6:30 p.m. Mark had also promised his roommate that he would be back before dinner. Yuta straddled Mark’s figure under him by clasping his thighs around Mark’s waist and leaned down to his ears.

“Wake up, Mark~” Yuta tried again. Multiple cheeky and playful ideas went through his mind and he contemplated which he should utilize. 

“I’ll kiss you from your head,” Yuta smiled cheekily as he planted a kiss on Mark’s forehead that was peeking out from under the sheets, “To your toe. And I’ll do it every given second until you wake up.”

Mark felt Yuta pull the blanket off with his slender, nimble fingers, and kiss him gently on the cheeks…

_Knock, knock._ “Young Master, we’ll be leaving in 20 minutes.” His secretary announced outside the door again. 

Now _that_ almost made Mark jump onto his feet, almost throwing Yuta off balance as his body shot upwards with embarrassment. Like a child who’s caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

Gosh, Yuta really needed to teach his men some _basic courtesy_ because he was only starting to have fun.

“Mark!” Yuta exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with adoration and amusement. “You alright?”

Mark’s skin tingled where Yuta had kissed him, and he began to blush when their eyes met. “I- Um- We need to go soon!”

His shyness made Yuta chuckle. He nodded his head and cupped Mark’s face in between his palms, forcing the younger male to look at him in the eyes. Yuta’s eyes had a softness to them, Mark noticed, there was something so welcoming in the rich browns. Mark felt just a little more lost, a little more at home, each time they were together. He just knew Yuta was the one for him.

“Go home for now, okay?” Yuta’s voice was soft, just like his eyes. And his smile. And the way he’s holding Mark’s face. “We’ll meet up very soon.”

Mark sighed and rested the weight of his cheeks on Yuta’s palm. It saddened him to part off with Yuta. He had wished that he could’ve spent more time with him, just to stupidly fall asleep and never wake up till it’s time to go. Gosh, he’s stupid.

This time, it was Hiroshi who sent him home too, except other than him and the chauffeur, there was another man who followed them, sitting beside Mark at the back of the car.

“This is Ryu, he’s my second lieutenant,” Yuta had said as they stood beneath the grand stoned stairwell, on the pebbled pathway. Yuta had his silver-blonde hair slicked back and he wore a full black suit. God, he looked delicious, if Mark had to comment on it. “I’ll have him follow you home.”

Mark raised his eyebrows questioningly. If there’s anyone Mark would prefer sending him back, it’s Yuta himself. Not that he would vocalize that, but being with one more stranger would potentially strip Mark off sanity. “W-why? I mean, I mean I really appreciate having him with me, but…”

Pulling him into a tight hug, Yuta smiled and patted his back comfortingly. “Don’t worry, it’s for safety purposes.”

_That...that could mean a lot of things._ Why would he be in any form of danger? Mark wasn’t dense. He may have known that Yuta is involved in some sort of wealth and political-related organization, but why, would any of those put Mark in any form of danger? He licked his chap lips and forced out a smile. He would ask Yuta the next time he met him. And he will get the answer he needs.

“Give me a text when you reach home safely,” Yuta waved to the golden-brown haired male who got into the black Ferrari that he had arrived in. Mark nodded cutely and waved back. “See you soon, Yuta-Hyung.”

Mark had no problems remembering their names, he lives and studied in an international school, to him that’s like breathing air. But who on earth had _so many_ people working for them? Apart from Hiroshi, Ryu, and the chauffeur (which Mark had come to call him Mr. Sato), he had also met Kentaro and Kei, not to mention those he had yet to learn their names. As much as Mark knew, his heart had been somersaulting whenever he had Yuta sitting dangerously close to him, and the way his honey brown eyes locked him in a trance with such intensity. Mark knew, very clearly, that he’s falling for Yuta. Hard. That much he knew.

There was no way Mark could ignore all the signs that warned him to leave. To go away. Terrible, _dangerous_ signs. But still, Mark hated how his attraction for Yuta is like a magnet; the more he’s exposed to him, the lesser he learned about him, and yet, he found himself being drawn more and more towards this Japanese man who had managed to make him feel this type of way. Mark had thought he was one to play everything safe. This time around? He felt like he was playing with fire. It’s addictive. Like drugs. _Dangerously_ addictive.

* * *

Yuta sat in the restaurant browsing through the files his lieutenants have prepared for him. After handicapping the Shimura clan, destroying most of their main financial sources in Korea, and amputating the head of the clan for violating the unspoken rules among Yakuza, now he had been told that the Shimura clan had thrown themselves into the lap of the third biggest _Yakuza_ clan of Japan, the Igarashi clan.

These people are just like cockroaches. Deathless cockroaches. You gave them a fair bit of warning and they transformed into smaller vermins and bugged you to no end. He’s very much aware of how much the Nakamoto clan has been sought after, especially since their clan had been the biggest, most powerful, and had the most connections in Japan and across the globe. Nonetheless, they wouldn’t do anything for the sake of abiding the laws of the underworld.

“What did Shimura promise Igarashi for the alliance?” Yuta questioned with a hint of merciless ludicrousness. He wasn’t particularly curious, because he knew they had already lost their major sources of revenue, whatever they had left, which wasn’t a lot, Yuta supposed, but _what Shimura_ had offered and _why_ Igarashi had agreed on was the real question.

His lieutenant bowed apologetically. “Sorry, sir. For that, we have yet to find any source and lead. We will be quick on it.”

Yuta nodded as he gave them back the files. All he knew was that the Shimura clan will have to take a while if they want to rebuild their forces, and as long as they keep their hands off the Nakamoto’s properties and men, especially _Yuta’s_ men, then he will keep things passive and let things stay _peaceful._

“Bring him in,” Yuta ordered. His _Shategashira_ nodded and opened the sliding door, allowing a young, fresh-looking boy into the room. He had dark brown hair, a pair of droopy eyes, and doll-like lips, and when he smiled politely to Yuta, his eyes disappeared into two crescents. Unlike all of Yuta’s men and guards, this boy was wearing a black hoodie and ripped jeans.

“Good evening, sir. Nakamoto,” He greeted Yuta with a nice, formal bow. Yuta smiled back with a huge grin and motioned him to sit down. One of the guards pulled the chair out for him and he slipped into position with a cute ‘thanks’.

“Save the formalities, Shotaro,” Yuta asked with a brotherly smile. “How was the flight to Japan?”

Shotaro shrugged. “I’ve been to Korea a few times, it’s not that bad.”

Shotaro Osaki was sent and trained to and by the Nakamoto Clan since he was six. By the age of fifteen, he had already become one of the best assassin-trained-informant in Japan and had worked on multiple undercover and assassination missions for the Nakamoto Clan. Yuta is the direct descendant of the Nakamoto family, and that automatically made him one of the highest rank “children” of their clan family. However, growing up, Yuta had gone through almost all of his combat training with Shotaro, and the two of them had become more like brothers than boss and under-boss.

“Have they told you about the mission I have for you?” Yuta asked casually after dinner. Shotaro smiled back with an eye smile.

“Of course I did,” The younger male leaned in, raising his brows with great interest. “So tell me, who is this Mark Lee and why am I appointed to look after him?”

Yuta turned his head to the side to avert his gaze, and yet, Shotaro could make out a shade of pink in his cheeks. He knew something serious was afoot. The always stoic, in charge and to be honest, annoyingly self-assured Yuta Nakamoto is blushing? 

“He’s-” Yuta’s mouth was almost too dry to speak, “He’s no one.”

The younger male poured him a cup of hot tea nonchalantly. “You’re seriously saying that? Even knowing _who_ and _what_ I am?”

Of course, nothing and no one can hide from Shotaro, not even calm and collected Yuta. This man was trained for one purpose, and that is to extract information from his target.

Yuta sighed in surrender, “Fine, I’ll tell you.” 

He’s a boy that I, that I really like.” He could feel the heat growing warmer in his cheeks and suddenly felt awkward as he attempted to hide his rosy cheeks behind his skinny fingers, wishing for a hole to open up from the floor and swallow him whole.

Shotaro suppressed a smile. He could tell from his blush that he really liked him. His usual even tanned skin had a rosiness to it, it was cute.

“I see,” He nodded with a smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him safe. ”

* * *

Mark stared at the last text he texted Yuta last night and chewed on his chapped lips. The thought of Yuta kissing him the previous day was enough to send him into a state of frenzy. The more he tried to suppress it, the more they mounted and became a circle, as a song stuck on repeat. Gosh, the way Yuta swirled his tongue, the way it felt like they were a match made in heaven, lips against lips, tongue against tongue, and holy shit, the way he _tasted_ like ice cream, like icy chocolate and vanilla.

Before he could even wave these thoughts off, his phone vibrated.

Have a good day in class, Mark. 

\- Yuta-Hyung 

Gosh, one more thing to make him blush, and to avoid being seen by his classmates, he buried his face into the gray jacket he stacked on his table.

“Mark!” 

Mark shot up from his seat upon hearing his name being called. The Professor in charge of his club, Mrs. Park, stood outside of his lecture hall, calling out to him. He trudged towards her questioningly. It was rare that she looked for him so early in the morning.

“Mark, there’s a new student who will be joining our club today. He’s from Japan, and I would like you to show him around and guide him on behalf of the club president who’s currently overseas right now.”

What’s with all his luck with these Japanese men?

* * *

Shotaro was...Mark tried to think of a suitable and fitting word to describe him. Shotaro was... _Wow,_ that’s the only word he could come up with. When the music started playing and when Shotaro started dancing, it was as if his body knew how to speak. He moved like water transformed by music, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion, painting a picture sound alone can never achieve; His movements flowed with a dazzling grace that took away the breath of every person in the training room. It was breathtaking.

As soon as the music stopped playing, all students in the room stood up and gave him a standing ovation. It was _that_ good. Mark strode up to him with a friendly grin.

“Hey Shotaro, I’m Mark!”

Shotaro bowed back shyly. “Will it be okay for me to call you Mark-Hyung? Sorry, I’m still learning.”

Mark patted his back with assurance. “Mark-Hyung is fine! You should join me and my friends for dinner later!”

Shotaro followed meekly behind the noisy, chattering, and occasionally screaming gang. They had decided to patronize the best restaurant near their school as a welcoming ceremony for the new member of their club. They barely needed a day, in mere two hours, Shotaro had already become all close and chummy with the four of them, with Lucas being the most welcoming and Mark being the most friendly.

The uniquely casual Diner stood alone amidst all the other establishments and the four boys could only think about the mouthwatering classic American food they serve. However, that was not the same for Shotaro. From their way from the school to the new diner, he had already spotted five suspicious men that seemed to be watching them with predatory eyes. Apart from the way they act, the clan brooches and necklaces are dead giveaways to who they were.

To avoid giving away his identity, Shotaro had opted not to look too closely to them. While he knew that they may be dangerous to Mark, and potential threats to Yuta, the moment he gave away his identity, this whole operation will be over. For now, the least he could do is to keep Mark safe and warn Yuta about them.

* * *

Wiping the fresh blood off his knuckles onto his black jeans, Shotaro stood hovering over the few groaning, lifeless bodies, none of those red, sticky liquid belongs to him, anyway. He had just eliminated all the suspicious men who had followed them, following exactly Yuta's order.

He had texted the young master of the Nakamoto clan, warning him about the existence of these people, and asked Yuta for advice regarding his next step.

"Eliminate them. Ask them who they work for." Yuta replied to him.

And so, Shotaro snuck out of the school compound, sliding under the wired gates into the backyard and vaulting over the fences, he then stealthily sneaked around to the main gates. Just like he had predicted, the same five men lurked somewhere near the school, as if camping to wait for Mark's appearance. 

A foot came up from the pavement and kicked one of the men in the face, sending them tumbling straight into the ground, before he could even pick himself up, Shotaro had landed an iron fist in his guts, sending him crumbling back down. Another man ran up to attack him, but he caught on to that fast, grabbing onto his collars and pulling the man straight into his bent knees, almost tearing the fabric in his grasps from the impact. _Two down._

Not giving him any time to rest, two other men came from both sides and lunged at him, aiming to pin him to the ground. Of course, he skillfully dodged them and managed to block all of their attacks. The man on the right came with a leg, and Shotaro grabbed it then hit it, hammer fist. Hard. Sending the man into a shrieking mess.

Shotaro felt his fist slamming into the face of the perpetrator on the left, even before his brain had registered it. He strode up at him who was still stumbling around looking for his balance and grabbed his collar, tilted his head back, and slammed it into the men’s. Then he let go of him and watched him fall, cracking on the stone floor afterward.

The last man had not attacked him. Shotaro knew he had been hiding behind one of the walls, somewhere within an arms reach distance, watching his every move. _Like a coward._ Shotaro stared straight at him, making sure their eyes locked on like magnets. Before the last man could run away and escape, Shotaro was already right behind him. He grabbed the foot of the coward and pulled him to the ground, causing the man to slam right onto the floor and struggled with the fear of his life. “Let me go! Let me go!!” He yelled and flailed his arms around, struggling to be set free. Shotaro flashed him his signature eye smile before dragging him by his feet; his torso, and head along the ground. When he was thrown onto the few lifeless bodies on the ground, Shotaro brought a fist to the man's face, snapping his nose into a grotesquerie.

Shotaro managed to defeat them in a short span of time, rather easily. Especially none of them seemed to expect his existence from someone so deadly and strong. 

"I don't want to repeat myself," Shotaro said coldly, his eyes held no warmth but cold calculating calm like that of a high functioning machine, his sweet and soft demeanor nonexistent. "Tell me who you work for, and I'll spare your life."

One of the men struggled to stand up as if to crawl away from the cold-blooded monster who stood before them. Treating him as if he was a vermin, Shotaro rested his shoe on his fingers intimidatingly.

"Speak."

"You fuck- Argh!"

Shotaro rammed the studded sole of his shoe into his fingers, pressing the meat and bones straight into the cemented pathway, eliciting an outcry from the man. His eyes were sharp and his patience was running thin.

They gulped in fear as they watched him stooped down to their levels, the menace and aggression in his eyes contrasted the soft, gentle brown. He then flicked open the swiss army knife he had in his pocket and fiddled the paper-thin blade playfully before placing it onto the cheek of the man nearest to him. Shotaro made sure to look into the eyes of those men, ensuring that they knew what he meant and he's serious about it. 

"Igarashi! I work for the Igarashi clan! Please! Spare me a life!" One of them choked out, tears, saliva and blood splattering, and their body shaking out of visible fear. 

To be very honest, Shotaro knew who they were and who they worked for. Especially when all of them had the badges that read “五十嵐", or rather, “IGARASHI", on them. But in order for his official order to come into effect, he needed them to either say it out or write it themselves. 

He broke into a _sweet, sweet, sweet_ smile. The kind that sent chills down people's spines.

"Thank you for your hard work!" He greeted with a pair of delightful eyes and a tone filled with a false sense of cheerfulness. Then the whole facade crumbled and the same pair of cold eyes took over and stayed fixated on the men's fearful faces.

"And rest in peace."

Shotaro pulled out a pistol with a silencer from under his black hoodie, and ended their lives before any of them could start begging for their lives or scream for help. Not that any of those would matter, because the informant had made sure they were somewhere remote enough not to leave any witnesses. But, he didn't want to waste any more time out here with these miscreants.

He removed the clan badges from them and contacted the cleaning team from the Nakamoto clan for a cleanup arrangement. Then, he opened up his messaging app to look for the older male’s number.

"Yuta-Hyung, I've eliminated five men from the Igarashi clan (๑˘︶˘๑) please advise me on the next order~"

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy mid-week <3
> 
> Here's your order for YutaMark crumbs...I KNOW I KNOW before you start jumping me for stopping it right there, trust me, you're not the only one (Yuta in my story would've gunned me by now). The sexy times will arrive, let's all put our heart and hands together and anticipate that wonderful moment.
> 
> ANYWHO
> 
> This is me shooting hearts for all of you who have been supporting this spontaneous fic ( -_･) ︻デ═一 ▸♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> (✿･ ◡ ･)❤ Also, you know I had to utilize another Japanese member now that Shotaro joined so don't be upset with me for making him yet another sinister member of the Nakamoto clan.
> 
> Would love to know your opinions so pleaseeee leaveee me a comment! ˚❣˚
> 
> Love, Love Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	7. THE AUDACITY

Yuta tapped his finger on the wooden table rhythmically as he stared straight to the front, his poker-face showed that he’s deep in thoughts, and yet, the rhythm had been picking up. He was getting annoyed and impatient.

“So, any new information about Igarashi?” Yuta demanded. His two right-hand men bowed apologetically to him.

“Not yet, sir.” His _Wakagashira_ replied, both of his hands before his abdomen. “We’re looking into it. But it seems like they have been working on their security to prevent any information leakage.”

_Information leakage, huh?_ The thought had made Yuta sneer. These bastards have been given too much peace and freedom and now they’re planning to fight back. Fine by him, honestly. These people need to know who they are up against to learn their lesson.

However, Yuta knew things had changed. He can’t wage war without considering the consequences. Especially how Mark seemed to be their easy target. No, he cannot allow that. Anyone who touches Mark will have to die in his hands.

He glanced up to his bed and he could vaguely see Mark’s sleeping figure and it made him miss him even more. While they had been texting each other frequently, it had been a while since he met him and he wanted to meet him right at this moment. In fact, he wanted to meet him, to hug him, and to spoil him every second of his life. But he knew Mark was starting his end of semester exam soon. Yuta sighed inwardly, at least he would be safe in school.

Yuta shot his right and left-hand men a look that could easily make any layman shake in fear. “Pick your speed up for the information searching.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And gear our men up. They have been idle for too long.”

* * *

It was almost 10 p.m and Lucas chugged the forth can of red bull and looked at Mark with his bloodshot eyes. “Yo, which chapters are you left with?”

Mark tapped his pen against his notebook and sighed. “Two more. How about you?”

“Woah, you’re fast! I have five more!”

Mark shrugged in defeat. Both of them have been mugging for the third day straight and the lack of sleep was taking a toll on their body. Before any of them could start whining about their exams, the public announcement bell chimed across the whole school, catching everyone’s attention. Mark and Lucas perked their heads up attentively.

“This is an announcement for Mr. Mark Lee Min Hyung. Someone is looking for you in the Administrative Office of Dormitory building 127.” Mark looked at Lucas and realized the latter had already been looking at him. Mark wondered if he was hallucinating until the announcement continued. 

“I repeat, Someone at the Administrative Office of Dormitory building 127 is looking for Mr. Mark Lee Min Hyung.”

Wow, it’s really for him. Never in his three years in university that any of the announcements had been for him.

Lucas rolled his long body down from his bed to the floor and wiggled somewhere nearer to Mark’s bed and gave him a teasing smile. “It’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”

A gentle flush of red had arisen in his cheeks and he bit the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling. “Shut up, we’re not official yet.”

Lucas cackled like a madman as he watched his roommate jolted up from his bed and putting on his shoes, purposefully ignoring and avoiding his judgemental and mocking gazes.

* * *

Yuta sat quietly in the office by himself when Mark saw him. His blonde hair was styled backward and a black formal jacket draped over his white dress shirt as he scrolled through his phone, eyes trained on his screen. He looked so hot and... _dominating_. If anything, Mark felt more attracted than intimidated.

Sensing a figure standing by the doorway, Yuta looked up from his phone. As their eyes met, a genuine grin spread across Yuta’s face, turning it from handsome into divine. Mark wasn’t lying if he said he saw a halo above him and majestic holy light blinding him. At that moment Mark felt his body flush warm.

“Hey, Yuta-Hyung,” He greeted, striding towards the older male in eager steps. “What brings you here today?”

“I missed you, Mark.” The older male replied as he reached an arm up to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Can we talk outside?”

Yuta held out his hand for the younger to take. Mark complied, but instead of shaking hands like everyone else, he brought Mark’s hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss upon it. Mark felt his face flush warm and the hairs on his neck stand. Something fluttered in his stomach. The university student didn't know what that feeling was. Mark thought it was a bizarre sensation, but it wasn't unpleasant. 

Both of them strolled by the empty backyard, Yuta’s long fingers holding around his dainty ones. Wintry air swirled around Mark, weaving Yuta’s light cologne in the air but also taking every lick of warmth it could. He found himself hugging himself tighter and regretting his decision to leave his room with only a thin T-shirt.

“Are you cold?” Yuta asked as if he had noticed Mark’s actions. The latter shook his head and grinned cutely to him, subconsciously maneuvering closer to the older male for warmth. Of course, Yuta caught on to that, too. He stopped walking and pulled Mark to a stop. The younger male glanced at him curiously.

“Yuta-Hyung, why ar-”

Yuta pulled the blazer off his shoulders and wrapped it around Mark’s slender body, smoothing and fixing the fabric so they looked neater on the younger male. “Take care of yourself, Mark. You can’t catch a cold during your exam period.” Yuta scolded lightly as he smiled softly, a thumb caressing his cheeks.

This feeling is so strange; it stretches throughout Mark’s whole body. It’s overwhelming, yet makes him feel complete. It feels as though his heart is dancing around his chest; and a hole, that he was never aware was there, has been filled.

The jacket and the hotness of his cheeks warmed him instantly and he looked down and bit his lips in shyness. “Thank you, Yuta-Hyung,” he squeaked out rather softly.

Then, Mark heard Yuta laugh gently. Then the older male used a finger to tilt Mark’s chin up, forcing the younger male to meet his eyes. “A cold night gives us ever more reason to draw closer to one another.”

Mark felt his cheeks burned hot. It was such a cheesy and flirtatious line and yet, it was working on him. He realized he kept falling in love with Yuta, and each time is harder than the last. Every time the feeling gets deeper, more complete, more bewitching.

Yuta leaned in a little closer, their foreheads touching. At first, their lips were brushing, then Yuta leaned in and tentatively pressed his soft lips to Mark’s. He kissed him and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below Mark’s ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. The younger male found himself running his fingers down Yuta’s spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and Mark could feel the beating of his heart against Yuta’s chest.

Just as Mark was going to lose himself in this moment, Yuta retreated, a look of longing and lament on his face. “It’s getting late,” Yuta whispered, their foreheads still resting against each other. “Don’t want to disrupt your studying schedule.”

Mark smiled cutely and took a step back. “I’ll walk you to the school gate.”

“Let’s go.” Yuta smiled back warmly and nodded, picking Mark’s hand like it’s the most natural thing to do on earth.

Two tall, muscular, and very good-looking guards and a chauffeur were waiting beside his navy Bentley, and Mark could only watch with envy. _How many cars does Yuta own?_ The three of them bowed to Yuta upon his arrival. One of the guards took out a medium-sized box and gave it to Yuta, Mark instantly recognized what it was.

“Mark, take this, I bought this for you. Don’t overwork yourself.” Yuta said as he put the box of _the most expensive Red Ginseng Herbal Tonic_ in Mark’s hands. He stared back at him dumbfounded.

“Hyung, this...this is too expensive, I can’t...I can’t take this.”

Yuta patted his head lovingly and gave him a gummy smile. “Eat this well."

Yuta then proceeded to get into his car, with the other guard opening the car door for him. He winded the window down to look at Mark before he left. “Do well, okay? We’ll meet right after you’re done with your exams!”

“I’ll see you soon, Yuta-Hyung!” Mark waved back cutely before realizing the jacket still draped over him. “Hyung! Your jacket! Wait!”

Yuta simply waved him off casually. “Give it to me the next time we meet. Or you can keep it.”

Mark stared at the car that is slowly driving out of his school with an astonishing look. _Wow. Damn._

* * *

The first thing Lucas said to him after he was back into their dorm was, “Holy shit! Is that the Red Ginseng Supplement!”

To which, Mark frowned at his enthusiasm coming from such an overtired guy and gave him one of the bottles of the supplement.

“Have some,” he offered.

And the second thing Lucas said to him was, “Dude, that jacket looked sick on you. Look at that badge! Swag!”

Mark peered down to Yuta’s jacket still on him and smiled. As he toyed with the golden clan insignia on the collar, Yuta’s cologne was still olfactible and Mark could imagine Yuta’s presence and the lingering taste of his lips.

* * *

Yuta wasn’t asleep yet when the attack hit the Nakamoto manor, but he was irritated. He was going through the book of accounts with his two _Kaikeis,_ or accountants, when his _Wakagashira_ busted through the door, wild eyes and his pupils dilated. Something doesn’t seem too right.

“Young Master,” His second in command breathed out. “The Igarashi clan, they’re attacking us right now.”

Yuta clucked his tongue in annoyance. “How are our men holding up?”

“They’re doing fine for now. I’ll send you to the safe house.”

Yuta shook his head as he pursed his lips as if he had a plan in mind. “No, I’m not going anywhere. Bring me to the arena.”

“You can’t be-” His _Wakagashira’s_ eyes and mouth were frozen wide open in an expression of stunned surprise, and although he was staring straight at Yuta, the latter appeared not to notice him at all.

“Yes, I’m joining the fight myself,” Yuta decided as he rose to his feet, a flare of anger in his face. “Let’s get this over and done with. I’m busy.”

Yuta peeled the outerwear off and left his study room with only a black dress shirt, his _Wakagashira_ marching behind him. The young master of the Nakamoto clan simply rolled up his sleeves, allowing the dragon tattoos on both of his arms to come to life.

Before they stepped out to the arena, he threw both of his palms back to two other men who stood guarding the doors without sparing them a single look. Of course, Yuta had his own guns. And if he dared say, a whole armory of it. But, was he bothered enough to retrieve them? Definitely not. Both of the guards placed their guns in Yuta’s outstretched hand and bowed. “Be careful, Young Master!”

In the dead of the night, smudgy illumination of the traditional lanterns brightened the arena of the Nakamoto manor. It was chaos in there, dust and dirt; men were fighting men, some gunned down, some too beaten up to join back the battlefield. A lot of people were screaming at each other. Cuss words. Gosh, guns are _loud,_ and they rang in echoes in Yuta’s brain.

The acrid smell of gunpowder enveloped his nasal cavities, and it reminded Yuta why he hated gang fights. 

_BANG! BANG!_ Someone had tried to send him a punch, but he fired two shots upwards into his groin and abdomen, and the Igarashi man fell onto the grassy field lifelessly, the deafening sound ringing for a short while.

Some amateur fighters swung their baseball bats around, in the hope to hit "something"; some of them slightly more trained, but their abilities and skills fell short behind the Nakamoto soldiers. Yuta’s frown deepened. _This doesn’t feel like people from the Igarashi clan should send if they plan to take the Nakamoto clan down._

The sudden firing of bullets got the adrenaline in Yuta pumping, but he forced himself to regulate his breathing so he could exert a measure of mental control. He stepped through the open area of the arena, with a gun in both hands, and fired shots into everyone who dared cross his path or made an attack. Bodies were flying past him and the soiled field littered with men of both sides of the fight. Distantly, he heard the frantic screams of his guards and men, but those were obscured by the blood pounding in his ears.

Yuta didn’t keep count of how many rounds of bullets he had fired. He clearly remembered to save the ammo, but now he’s already running out of them. His pistols have been rendered useless, so he tucked them into the gun holsters by his belt. One of his enemies stumbled forward, swinging his metal bat blindly. Unable to dodge in time, a heavy blow landed on Yuta’s right arm which he used to block the attack. He returned that man with a painful kick to his chest, sending him flying. Before he had time to recover, another flew toward him, arms outstretched, ready to claw out his throat, and before he knew it, a deep wound sliced in the flesh of his right cheek, heavily oozing out blood. One thing was for sure, it was going to be very painful to clean, Yuta thought rather darkly, his eyes narrowed to slits. The man not backing down. He leaped up in the air, attempting to attack Yuta again.

“Young master!” Yuta heard his lieutenant yell. And then in the span of an instant, the man in front of him was shot right through his chest, and the battle ended with the last man crumbling like a deflated doll beneath his feet.

* * *

Yuta winced and sucked in a sharp breath as the pain spiraled all across his body.

“So-sorry!” The nurse bowed apologetically, eyes avoiding the injured male in front of her. But Yuta simply shook his head and motioned her to continue. The worst of the blood had washed away, but his face was brutally gashed, a bluish-purple bruise forming around it. He bit his lip from the pain of it all.

After the sudden attack from the Igarashi clan, Yuta had been escorted forcefully back to his room by his lieutenants to get his wounds cleaned up despite his protest. He had wanted to look for the _message or threat_ that the Igarashi clan had sent him, but his men simply refused, assuring him that they will search for it on his behalf.

“Young Master, it’s me,” His _Wakagashira’s_ voice could be heard from outside of his room. “I’m coming in.”

Yuta watched his second in command strode into his room, a muscle twitching involuntarily at the corner of his right eye, his mouth forming a rigid grimace. His usually composed _Wakagashira_ was tense. _Something is wrong._

“What happened? Did you guys find anything substantial from the Igarashi Clan?”

His second in command bowed. “The Clan Leader, Sir. Nakamoto, have been notified about the attack.”

Fuck. His dad would know about this. He had trusted him enough to grant him to take over the Korea sectors and now he had blown it up. And who the fuck made this happened? The Igarashi Clan? This fucking small and puny of a gang group had acted up and foiled his leadership. Yuta buried his face into his hands in an attempt to calm the swelling of the veins waiting to explode. He felt blood rushing to his head. He can’t disappoint him.

Before Yuta could decide that the day was the worst of the worst, his first and second lieutenant burst through the door, panting. Yuta and his _Wakagashira_ raised their eyebrows at the impolite and abrupt actions, but the two at the door seemed to not notice it.

“Young Master, we found the letter,” His first _Shategashira_ announced, a blood-smeared white letter with a black spider insignia tucked in between his gloved fingers. 

Yuta felt adrenaline flooding his system. It pumped and beat like it’s trying to escape. Through a swirl of sickening fears came the sound of his father’s begging and the screams of his mother, Yuta felt his heart exploding as his eyes widened with fear.

“The _Tsuchigumo_ ,” simultaneously, Yuta, his _Wakagashira,_ and his _Shategashiras_ voiced out. 

Yuta looked up from his palms and stared into the space behind his _Wakagashira,_ white knuckles from clenching her fist too hard, and gritted teeth from an effort to remain silent. He hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. His face was red with suppressed rage.

“Young master, are you okay-” The nurse had tried to ask, face filled with concern, but Yuta swung around and mentally snapped.

_WHAM!_ Unable to tame his anger, Yuta resorted to slamming his fist against the wall. The nurse shrieked in surprise, but Yuta paid her no mind, eyes still trained on the wall where he had punched. From his peripheral view, he saw his second in command had ushered her out of the room. Yuta knew, very clearly, that the same fear had traveled in his _Wakagashira’s_ veins but never made it to his facial muscles or skin. His complexion remained pale and matt, his eyes as steady as if he were shopping for shoes. 

The wood board under his white wallpaper tore and broke beneath his fist, cutting and eating into his skin, only raw and weeping flesh in various shades of pink and red. He should have been feeling the pain on his hands and his face, but instead, there is only annoyance. And anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the...plot...thickens.......................
> 
> Of course, I'm not ending the story anytime soon. The story will probably extend til...I'm not so sure myself (Because I love to hurt myself and make all of you suffer with me). 
> 
> \--> Also if you were looking for a short fic, I might have disappointed you ʅ ⍨⃝ʃ
> 
> So I guess we'll see ♪⁽⁽٩( ᐖ )۶⁾⁾ ₍₍٩( ᐛ )۶₎₎♪
> 
> Thanks for all the support! I really enjoy reading all of your comments. I also hope that all these different clan names and guard/men names haven't been too confusing.
> 
> Comments very much appreciated! 
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	8. THE BOY WITH THE DRAGON TATTOOS (PART I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Blood, Violence, Death, Mentions of Pedophilic disorder, Abuse

Yuta found himself running down the alleys of Shinjuku in the inky darkness of the mid-winter night. He ran through a maze of buildings and winding side streets as the sky rumbled, and heavy rain bounced off the cobblestones. A storm smothered the sun, greying the world around him. Drops of rain beat against his skin like hammers.

“Don’t let that rascal run!” He heard the man yell. “How many times have I told you fools to chained him with metal and not ropes!”

"Please God, let me live." he cried aloud, throwing himself forward with even greater abandon.

His clothes and hair, slick with perspiration, clung to his skin. Sweat rolled down his skin in thick, salty beads. He could feel his heart throbbing inside his chest. His skin felt like it was roasting. Yuta dived into the smallest alleyway, one that could fit barely children of his age. But it didn’t matter. Yuta was small. And he always was smaller than children his age.

“Fuck! You sneaky bastard!” He heard again. Inching further into the dark unknown, Yuta could hear them panting with the effort from three hundred yards behind.

He made it out of them. After months and months of being chained up by these psychotic men, he finally escaped.

* * *

Yuta was young, he didn’t understand many things, like he didn’t know what “Global Trade” and “Human Trafficking” were, however, he did remember many things. One of those that he remembered vividly was the day he has stripped away from his loving mom and dad. He was four, and he was told by his dad to hide in the room with his mom because ‘a very special guest’ was coming to visit. At first, Yuta couldn't understand why his dad and mom were so afraid of these guests because he had liked all of the uncles and aunties that visited their house once in a while.

_“_ Please! Give me one more day! I swear I’ll have enough money!” 

Yuta hid behind his bedroom door, watching his dad on his knees, bowing relentlessly to the big, scary man who hovered on top of him, spiders and other ugly creatures crawling along his skin. The gripped on the door tightened as his other hand balled up into a tiny fist, his brows furrowed.

“One more day, one more day! Is that all you knew how to say? We're not fucking charity!” The man bellowed, lifting his left foot and smashed it against his dad’s fingers, eliciting an animalistic cry from him. Yuta jumped in fear and almost fell to his butt. Then, he felt his mother pulling him away, back into the bedroom they were hiding in. “Yuta, come here.” She whispered. He observed her face and expressions and figured out that her once kind and gentle face was twisted into sorrow and fear. "Mom, why are you crying?" He asked as he used one of his fingers to wipe away one of the tears that escaped her eyes.

She pulled him into a tight hug as she sobbed into his tiny shoulder, and at that moment the arms squeezed a fraction tighter and he breathed more slowly, his body melting into her mom's as every muscle lost its tension to the spring air. This was life, real life.

“If you can’t pay us with money,” Yuta could hear clearly, even in his mom’s embrace, “Pay us with your wife! With your son! She makes a good prostitute. And him? The market wants young boys, eh? How does that sound?”

Yuta hugged his mom tighter, his stomach all knotted up. If only he could only stay in her arms forever, safe from the world's harmful people. One could only hope.

“No! No! You cannot take them! Take me instead! Please!” His dad screamed. Yuta felt his mom pulling him closer and he clung to the fabric of her clothes, burying his nose into her shirt.

The door to the bedroom flew open. Everything happened fast, too quick for Yuta to even register what happened. He was first yanked out of his mother’s grasp, and he screeched in fear. He thrashed, he struggled, he screamed and he yelled, but the men were far too strong, and they held him in his arms like a little ragged doll. The man had his fingers dug all the way into his sides and his rib bones that he was so sure they're going to bruise. "Let me go!" Yuta screamed as he pulled himself away from the grasps. "Argh! Let me go!"

“Mom! Dad! Help!” He screamed like a baby in a tumble dryer, garbled, muffled, intermittent, but nonetheless distressing and intense. Hot tears were spewing out of his eyes and Yuta had never experienced a greater fear. Not even that one time he lost a fight in school. Not even when his kindergarten teacher had called his mom down for all the troubles he had caused in school. No, this time it was different.

Then it happened. And he saw it. The scene that stayed in his mind forever. The second in his life that left his heart scarred. The moment that he wished he could forget, but they remained stagnant in his brain, ebbing all of his heart away. 

The tattooed man pulled out a revolver and aimed it towards his dad.

“No!” He heard his mom screamed and his dad’s eyes widened in fear. Then he pulled the trigger. In a loud, ringing bang, his dad was shot dead right in front of him. The bullet went through his head, his house covered with brains and blood. The ringing sound echoed in his brain, rebounding through the walls of his skull, but what took over his mind was not the deafening rings. He stared at the pile of...red goo, his lips almost blue in the crazy summer heat. 

Yuta felt his mind stopping as his body went numb. He heard his mom let out a blood-curdling scream. It was the kind of scream that puts every other thought on hold and roots everyone close in the very same agony. The bile in his stomach was pushing its way up to his small, air-clogged throat and yet, he no longer finds the will to even vomit out the upsetting content.

Everything had changed.

* * *

The next day was always the worst. That was the only conclusion Yuta had come up with.

He remembered waking up to sheer blackness. At first, the darkness of the room must have deceived him, or else his eyes were confused and dazzled by the recent glare of the torn, broken lamp. For a minute or two he could make out nothing at all but dark lumps of furniture, the mass of the chest of drawers by the wall, and the white patches of newspapers scattered across the floor. His lips were peeling from the lack of moisture and his mouth felt like sandpaper.

Yuta forced his heavy body up...only to realize he was unable to move; his arms and legs were tied. Then he opted to scream, but only a muffled, strangulated noise escaped past his taped lips. Yuta’s stomach dropped to the ground. What is going on? Everything hurts.

Yuta laid on the ground, his face closed in a grimace, his skin pale and clammy. Every few minutes he would try to scream. Then he would go quiet, just panting. He tugged, and tugged, and tugged again, ignoring the pain on his wrists, he tugged, and tugged, and tugged again. He tried to yell, he tried to scream, he tried to call for help, only for all his efforts proved futile. All he could do was to cry until one had no more tears to shed, the tears that expressed his grieve and fear had run dry.

The first night passed with Yuta passing back out into unknownness after his energy depleted. And all he had hope was to see his mom again.

The next day was always the worst. Yuta was splashed awake. 

He leaped in the air as if a firecracker had gone off before coughing and sputtering, only to be yanked back down onto the cold, cemented floor by other forces. “Arghh!!” Yuta shrieked as his tied hands rammed into his own ribs and his small, little body twisted in an inhuman way. 

The same tattooed man from the previous night stood over him, one foot pinning Yuta down by the shoulder, the big, black spider tattoo on his arm eyeballing him menacingly. The tape on Yuta's lips gone but his arms and legs were still tied behind his back. In his eyes, Yuta saw nothing but nonchalance, evilness, and violence, and his face voided of expression as he looked down at Yuta, as if he's an object. As if he's an inanimate object incapable of pain and fear. This man could kill anything and anyone if he wanted to.

“Eat your food and get ready for the trade!” The man sneered as he threw a pile of, what Yuta could only assume, food, onto space beside his face, the young boy flinched. Said food was a pile of cold rice and leftover side dishes. It smelled awful and it barely looked edible. Yuta fought back the urge to vomit.

Unsure of where the courage emerged from, Yuta lunged forward and bit the man's ankle. "Argh! You bastard!" The man bellowed as he jumped in surprise. He kicked Yuta straight in the jaw. Something in his bones might have snapped as he tumbled a few meters back. But Yuta refused to back down, he swallowed all the pain he had in his body before staring straight into the man's eyes and asked. “What did you do to my mom? Where is she?”

“Dead. We killed her because she refused to comply.” He replied simply, his eyes pulled into a sadistic slit and he let out a burst of maniacal laughter. “You should know what to do, young boy. Comply or die.”

As he watched the man strode out to the room nonchalantly as if he wasn’t the disgusting murderer who killed his parents, Yuta's eyes glimmered with watery tears and he felt as if the whole world was about to crumble. He rolled into a fetus position and screamed with all his might. He sobbed and tears flooded like the waters rushing down from a waterfall and the only time he'd stop was to fill his lungs with fresh air.

Ever since that moment, Yuta felt nothing anymore. 

His arms ached. No matter how he moved them, they were impossibly numb. Someone could cut them off and he wouldn’t feel a thing. He was exhausted. There was no way to move with all of his limbs bound. His numb arms were one of the least of his problems, though they were an irritant. He couldn’t stand the feeling of agony deep within his soul. He couldn’t stand the feeling of his conscience and thoughts ebbing away with the loneliness. He couldn’t stand the thought of living through one more day.

* * *

He wasn't sure how many days it had been since he was brought to the warehouse, isolated in a forest, away from the rest of the civilization, where they tied him up for most of the time in the same room.

Every day was the same.

He would wake up and be given substances that he refused to eat and barely touched. Occasionally, the tattooed man, whom Yuta had learned that he was the ‘boss’ of the organization he was taken into, would force that food into his mouth. And if he refused to comply, he would be punished with penknives plunging into his small arms. Blood would slowly ooze out of numerous wounds in his face and arm, a small but relentless flow of crimson, but however, he felt no pain.

The first few times the man had done it, Yuta cried so hard till his eyes were sore and his voice was coursed from all the screaming and crying. He had begged the man to stop, he had promised to be a good boy and not cause trouble, he had prayed to God and all the deities that he would only do good to the world if they ever saved him from his agony. But the man didn't stop, and his promise never came true, and God and deities refused to answer to his prayers. They _had_ hurt, but now he no longer felt pain. 

The rest of his day would go like this. Some other men would dress him up in slightly nicer clothes, and they would drive him to different underground exhibitions held in different abandoned locations, like empty warehouses, underground train stations, and private landed properties. In that show, there were many other children like him, tied up, malnourished, and numbed. Numbed from all the pain, numbed from all the abuse, numbed from all the evil of the world. 

In that exhibition, they sat obediently in metal cages use to enclose animals. In that exhibition, children are the items that many other men and women choose and buy. In that exhibition, humanity and laws do not exist, what existed is money, status, and power.

A man walked past his cage, Yuta couldn’t see his face, but the rings on his fingers looked shiny and pretty.

“Mr. Fuji! Mr. Fuji!” He heard the boss called out, stopping the man with the gold rings on his tracks. The man walked back to where his cage was and slammed his hand against the roof of the cage, surprising Yuta. The young boy crouched timidly like a frightened stray cat.

“What do you want?” Mr. Fujii sneered.

“Look at our boy! He’s premium!” Yuta heard his boss speak.

Mr. Fujii clucked his tongue. “Your boy is malnourished. His organs don’t bring in good revenue.”

* * *

“Boss, look at Madam Ueto! Her boobs, whew!” Yuta heard one of the men whistle behind him. His eyes followed to where the woman, ‘Madam Ueto’, was. The woman, in her late 40s or 50s, was dressed in a black, luxurious nightgown, totally out of place, and overdressed for such a shabby underground auction.

The boss, however, replied with disgust in his voice. “Urgh, she’s the worst of the worst.”

Yuta’s voice perked up with interest. Madam Ueto looked extremely kind and beautiful, how is she the worst of the worst? He could easily pinpoint more bad and evil people in that room. His “boss”, for example.

“She’s pedophilic. She shops for young boys every once in a while to fulfill her own sexual fantasies.”

“What does she do to the rest of them?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? Killed, probably.”

There were a lot of confusing words that he used that confused Yuta. He didn’t understand what that meant, but it definitely didn’t sound good. Especially how the man shuddered and gagged. Yuta followed her movement with alertness in his eyes.

Madam Ueto stopped by his cage and lowered her busty figure down so she could look at him. Once again, fear found him, and Yuta cowered all the way to the back of the cage as if he could avoid the penetrating gaze of the woman staring at him.

“Is this your boy?” She asked in a sharp voice, and yet, it voided emotion.

“Yes, yes, Madam Ueto!” The boss bowed politely, plastering a fake smile across his face. “Did he catch your eyes? Would you like to bring him home for a ‘sexy, sexy’ time?”

The woman shot him a look of annoyance, and that shut the boss down immediately. “Your boy has too many scars on his arms. I like mine clean.” She replied sternly before walking away.

Yuta cast an eye to his own arms. They were full of old and new scars. And for the first time, he actually appreciated the ugly, wormy lines swimming around his hands and body.

  
  


* * *

Things slowly changed. For the worse, for the better, Yuta wasn't very sure, but he believed it to be the latter. They had tied his arms to the front and untied his legs, which allowed Yuta to had more liberty to maneuver around, and he can actually sit up by himself without anyone's help. The boss had also been getting busier and busier each day, and Yuta knew that because he had counted the number of times the cars leave the garage. One of the men of the organization was tasked to feed him, and Yuta had come to learn that his name was Natsuki. Natsuki was only a few years older than him, presumably only three or four years older.

Other than bringing in actual, edible food for Yuta, who would gladly gobble all of them down, Natsuki would sneakily bring in leftover soft drinks or some snacks for him and quietly feed him all of those before he leaves. "Your wounds look so much better, I'm sure in a few more days they would heal." Natsuki murmured softly to himself as he inspected the wound on Yuta's small arm.

"Why are you here?" Yuta asked. His voice was sharp, and they came out emotionless and tired. But his curiosity reigned, so he asked the older male who sat beside him. Natsuki averted his eyes to the clean roll of bandages that sat by his thigh and he smiled a gentle, yet painful smile.

"My name is not Natsuki," He began. Yuta was boring his eyes into the boy didn't seem to mind. "I was from Korea. My dad owns a small tailor shop in Seoul and we were constantly in debt. He ended up borrowing money from the local moneylenders."

The older male paused. He studied Yuta's face for a while before breaking into a smile. "Sorry, I must be boring you with the details."

Yuta shook his head before resting the side of his head against his bended knees. "Tell me more."

"My dad couldn't pay them when the date is due, and they offered to take me in exchange for the debt my dad owed," The older male licked his lips before he continued. "Well, they did ask for my younger brother, but I volunteered."

The younger male raised is brows, expression filled with disbelief. Why the hell would anyone volunteer to come to such a place? "You volunteered?" 

Natsuki let out a laugh, and yet, Yuta could still hear the pain and agony beneath it. "Yea, my brother was only one when they took me. How could I let such a young child been taken away from home?" He replied. "My brother must be two or three now. I hope he's doing well."

Natsuki took in a deep breath. He started cleaning up the empty plates and trays on the floor as the younger male eye-balled him.

"I was already eight when I'm sent to the boss. To him, I'm too old to be re-sold to other buyers, yet too young to be working in the main organization. So he kinda kept me around, y'know, doing small and harmless tasks," Natsuki explained. "Alright, have a good rest, Yuta. I'll be back at dinner time."

"Wait," Yuta called out to the male leaving the room. Natsuki stopped by the door and turned around to look at him, his head cocked to the side curiously. "What is your real name?"

"My name? JaeYoon. Jung JaeYoon."

* * *

The lack of light that had bothered him so much at first just became normal. Yuta sat facing the window that was almost taped up with newspaper pieces. Some parts were torn and the moonlight shone in like silver needles. Yuta stared at them. Winter was coming soon and all he had on was a piece of oversized T-shirt and pants too big for him.

He closed his eyes and imagined his mother’s face. In his mother's arms, he was safe and his worries disappeared like rain on summer earth. In that embrace, he was cocooned better than any butterfly-to-be. He felt her soft skin and the gentle squeeze on his own. He could bathe in her warmth and the smell of freshly laundered clothes. 

Then the door to his room flew open and Yuta’s eyes snapped open. All his imagination crumbled and he was left sitting in darkness, alone, hungry and cold. Natsuki strode in with his ‘dinner’ if any of those things can still be edible. He laid the ceramic plate down beside him and patted his head. “Eat,” He said. “I’ll come back for the plate tomorrow morning.”

The man left as quickly as he came. Yuta stared at the plate of food in front of him and made a disgusted face. He’s hungry as hell, but even hunger won’t get him to eat that...thing. His boss had returned, and that meant that Natsuki couldn't bring him good food.

Leaning his head back to the wall, Yuta tried to fall back asleep. 

“Break the plate.” Yuta heard...his mom's voice? _What was that?_

Gosh, he must be so hungry he’s hallucinating again. Then, the same gentle, motherly voice emerged from deep within his consciousness again. “Yuta, listen to me. Broken ceramic is sharp. And sharp things can cut the rope on your wrist.”

His eyes shot open. Whether it was his own thought of his mom’s voice, this idea was brilliant. Devilish brilliant.

He glanced around carefully and prayed that no one was near the room he was in. Carefully, he used his tied legs to pull the plate towards him. After making sure they were within his reach, he tipped the plate over, spilling all of the content all over the floor. The loud clunk made Yuta jump and he quickly slammed his forehead against the back of the plate. It didn’t break.

“What the fuck is that little rascal doing in there!” Yuta heard the boss yelled, and followed by the chorus of running footsteps. As they progressively got loudly, Yuta crashed his forehead into the ceramic again. This time, he succeeded, with his skull and forehead cracked opened.

He twisted his little body so that his tied hands could reach for the broken fragments, and the sharp ceramic pieces cut through the old, worn ropes rather easily. They snapped as soon as the edge came in contact with the manila rope. He sucked in a deep breath as the sharp fragments dug into his palm, blood flowing out like streams down the river. He ignored that. 

After cutting through the last constraints on his legs, he tried to get up but quickly realized how futile it was when he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain lanced through his head and colorful spots flashed in front of his eyes, it felt like his whole body had been beaten and every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache. Regardless, Yuta needed to get out of here...away from that men.

Yuta wasn’t even tall enough to reach the windows, and yet, he was hauling his tiny body against the glass, hoping that the impact could somehow break the window.

The door flew open and Natsuki was the first to enter. Seeing how the hostage was escaping, the first thing he did was to remove the dagger from under his belt. Yuta quivered as he retreated all the way till his back hit the wall, pupils trembling as he eyed the dagger in Natsuki's hand.

The direction of Natsuki's hand went into a path that surprised him, he wordlessly struck the glass window using the handle of the dagger, shattering them into tiny shiny shards. The young hostage could only watch him with his eyes wide.

“What are you doing? Run!” Natsuki whispered, loud enough to snap Yuta out of his trance. He gestured the younger to the broken window. “I’ll buy you some time, run towards the city!” 

Yuta didn’t need to be told twice. He hauled himself up to the window sill and leaped out, the remaining shards cutting into his flesh. He bolted down the only path in the forest. He didn’t know where he was nor did he know where he was heading. He had no idea what time it was and he had no clue what day. All he knew was he had to keep running forward. Not stopping for anything.

He didn’t know how long he had run, or how far he had made it, but he soon found himself running down the alleys of Shinjuku. As if a celebratory ceremony for his escape, the sky started raining, pelting down rain droplets that seemed to comfort and yet, urged him to run faster.

“Don’t let that rascal run!” He heard the boss yell. “How many times have I told you fools to chained him with metal and not ropes!”

Yuta dived into the smallest alleyway, one that could fit barely children of his age.

“Fuck! You sneaky bastard!” He heard again. Yuta could hear them panting from somewhere far behind him, and his feet continued on.

He made it out from them, yet again. After months and months of being chained up by these psychotic men, he finally escaped.

* * *

Yuta was vaguely aware of a stinging in his leg. He was exhausted by noon. By then he had run out of town and reached the stream of somewhere suburb, Yuta had no idea where he was. He went on his knees and filled his outstretched palms with water, trying to catch his breath. His lungs felt like they would burst and his throat was so dry.

The water didn’t make it into his mouth before he collapsed. The harsh winter stole his consciousness as he felt darkness overtaking his world.

“Mom...dad…” Yuta whispered to himself as he felt his body growing numb from the cold. “I’m free...”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what? are you going to come to my house and beat me up? ¯\\_(⌣̯̀ ⌣́)_/¯ <\-- Should've anticipated that when a Mafia!AU is written by someone of the username of Devil's Soulmate...I do not account for your sadness ༼☉ل͜☉༽
> 
> Sorry if this chapter was so...under-developed. I tried, I really did :))
> 
> Sorry for Mark stans who read this story for Mark and are questioning "where the fxck was Mark?!" (how could you be so heartless...it's baby Yuta!!!!)
> 
> Jokes aside have a good day & week ahead! Thanks for all your very encouraging support, leave more comments!!
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	9. THE SAINT AND HIS SINNER (M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning #1: Mature Content (Don't read this before you sleep...or if that's up to your alley then go ahead :3)
> 
> ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ » congratulations, you have made it far enough into the forbidden contents!
> 
> Warning #2: This chapter is about 1.5x longer than the usual chapters, so yea :)

“Mark, I’m hungry,” Lucas groaned as he rolled over to his tummy and buried his face into his arms. Mark paid that Giant Baby no mind as he continued to type away on his laptop. He had an assignment due in 20 minutes and it’s his last assignment before his semester break. Korean History has got to be the death of him. He pointed to the different containers and hampers of snacks and tonic drinks that Yuta had been sending him for the past month and hoped that Lucas would just engage himself in those expensive foodstuffs than to annoy him. But Lucas didn't want snacks or tonic drinks, he wanted actual food.

Lucas started rolling his elongated and overgrown body on the floor aggressively when Mark was ignoring him. “Mark! I’m hungry!” he whined again, his baritone voice on the verge of breaking. “Let’s order supper delivery!”

“Stop! Oh my God!” Mark yelled back, eyes trained on his laptop screen and his fingers typing furiously on the keyboard. 11.50 pm. 10 minutes. “I’m on my last paragraph!”

That got Lucas to stop whining. The two of them had been rushing and typing the rest of their take-home exams, which set of questions or problems are given to them several days in advance of the due date. Luckily for Shotaro, Chenle, and Renjun, they had lesser modules for first and second years, and by the time they finished their in-class exams, they were free.

Mark clicked the “submit” button and almost fling his laptop into the wall. “I'm done! Lucas! I’m done!” He cheered as he slammed the screen down. This semester is _finally_ over.

Lucas maneuvered his body like a dead fish so he could sit up. “I’m so hungry let’s get supper delivered.” He repeated his words as he pouted, eyes watery and huge, like a puppy.

“It’s Friday night! It’s going to take them long as hell!” Mark laughed as he leaped off his bed, dumping all the contents from his lap to his side. “Plus, the stores are just one street across! Let’s walk over to get them!”

That comment made Lucas whined and threw a tantrum, which almost made Mark cry with hysterical laughter from his dramatic expressions and his comical actions. “I don’t want to go out! It’s so far from school!”

“Fine! Fine!” Mark said after he stopped laughing. “I’ll go, I’ll go! And I'll be faster than any delivery man.”

“What should we get? Chicken or pizza?” Lucas asked excitedly as he bounced up and down beside Mark. “Or both?”

“I’ll get both.”

After grabbing his gray coat and wallet, he headed out to the school.

With the semester ending and the holidays arriving, the daily curfew had been put on pause until the next semester started again, which granted all the students the freedom to go in and out of school as they wish. 

Mark regretted agreeing to buy supper because now he’s trudging towards the pizza shop in near darkness rather begrudgingly. He should have suggested getting pizza and maybe convince Lucas to walk a little to get fried chicken that was literally across their school. Looking up to the moonless sky, the stars were nonexistent, there is no twilight, only blackness. The store sign shined dimly in the dark and Mark quickened his pace, wanting to get in there because he was freaking out being all by himself. 

“Ark!” He yelled out. Before he could get close to the establishment, someone had yanked him backward, making him almost lose his balance, but before his bum could hit the floor, another hand had reached out to steady him. He whisked his head around, eyes huge and afraid.

Very much to his thankful surprise, it was a familiar face.

“Hiroshi! You’re Hiroshi right?!’ Mark greeted, relief and happiness visible on his face. Standing beside Hiroshi was another guard that Mark was sure had seen him following Yuta that one time the older male had visited him in school. The two guards stood close to a head taller than him, and for the first time that Mark had seen him, he wasn’t wearing his usual polite smile. “What’s wrong?”

Hiroshi bowed and greeted him formally. “Mr. Lee,” He began, his expression perplexed, “The Young Master, he…”

Then he stopped speaking as if to think or to consider if he should be saying it or not. Mark frowned as he ran his hand through his brown, messy hair, teeth tugging at his cracking lower lip. “What happened to Yuta-Hyung?”

“He’s...he was injured last night.” The guard said, looking away from Mark as if to avoid his questioning eyes. “We were attacked last night.”

Mark’s face washed blank with confusion like his brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information from his wide eyes. “Injured? Attacked? By who?!”

Hiroshi refused to answer his question, instead, he pointed to the black BMW parked near the sidewalk. “He didn’t order us to get you, but we thought it might be best for you to meet him.”

Mark raised his eyebrow, his head swimming unhelpfully and his mouth uncharacteristically dry. “Is he very badly injured?”

Hiroshi offered him a small, bitter smile. “Not necessary. Just a few bruises and wounds.”

That made Mark feel better. _At least Yuta is okay._ He followed the two men in black to the car and dialed Lucas’s number, informing the latter that he had to go somewhere and that he would be home late. To make up for ditching Lucas, Mark also ordered pizza and chicken delivery for him as an apology.

* * *

Mark’s heart twisted and sunk with nerves as he sat beside the other guard at the back of the car. It’s his second time going to Yuta’s house, and he’s jittery for a different reason. 

Why and how is Yuta injured? Who and what could have possibly attacked him? And why didn’t Yuta contact him? What did Hiroshi mean when he said that Yuta hadn’t ordered them to get him? Does he even want Mark there?

Lucky for him, something else caught his eyes and it saved his mind from going somewhere too far fetched. The guard beside him had his left-hand bandaged, and the back of his hand looked like it had been bleeding. Mark raised his eyebrows.

“Hyung, are you injured?” He asked carefully, subconsciously reading his expression in fear of offending him. The guard looked at him with a startled look, as if surprised by the honorific title. Then he controlled his expression and it fell back to a straight face. He then followed his gaze to his own hand before looking back at Mark.

“It’s a small cut.” He replied shortly. Mark nodded.

“You should be careful, Hyung.” Mark reminded him sincerely. The guard stared back at Mark with an unreadable gaze.

“Tha-thanks, I will.” He blurted out, albeit at a loss for words.

Mark looked away to somewhere out of the window. The woods always look different at night, as if the daytime trees and flowers and stones had gone to bed and sent slightly more ominous versions of themselves to take their places. “Hyung, is it okay if I call you ‘Hyung’? Or is there a name if you would like me to call you?” 

A genuine, _unfamiliar_ smile lingered on the guard’s lips as he thought of an appropriate answer.

“I’m Yuta’s _Wakagashira,_ but you can call me Natsuki. Natsuki-Hyung.”

* * *

Mark stood behind the door to Yuta’s room, cold sweat glistened on his furrowed brow. With hands clasped tightly in front of his stomach, he constantly fiddled with his knuckles, weaving his fingers in and out of each other. He stole a glance at the retreating maid who had taken his coat with her, and then one more time at Natsuki, who stood straight, tall and fearless behind him.

“Hyung,” Mark whispered, wanting to catch the attention of Yuta’s second in command. The older male peered down at him, an eyebrow raised curiously. “Do I...Do I just go in? Or should I...I don’t know...Knock?”

Natsuki sighed out quietly and cast a skeptical look at the door. “It’s better to just go in. He probably wouldn’t respond even if you knocked.”

The younger male nodded and took a deep breath, plucked up his courage, and pulled both panels of the door open. Mark’s face sets like stone, mouth a grim line. The room...the room looked like it had been ransacked like it had been hit by hurricanes. Pens, pencils, and paper scattered, clothes and linens strewn all over the floor...and right in the corner of the room sat a distraught and tattered Yuta. His white dress shirt crumpled and his long blonde hair all over the place. This sight of Yuta truly broke Mark’s heart; like a smooshed ice-cream melting on a hot road.

“Yuta-Hyung?” Mark called out as he strode up bravely towards the crouching figure. Yuta’s head snapped up when he heard his voice. He looked at Mark through wide red-rimmed eyes, his mouth slightly open, and a glisten of dried tears above his cracked lips. “Yuta-Hyung.” Kneeling down in front of Yuta, Mark repeated again.

“Mark? Why are you here?” Yuta sounded surprised and weirdly non-accusatory. Mark pulled his brows together and sighed. He did what he never imagined himself to do. He cupped Yuta’s face between his palms and looked into his eyes. Eyes that deflected anger, pain, and sorrow. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Mark panicked. He shouldn’t be here? But he just got here! And he’s not going to leave Yuta, especially not in this state. Okay, now he gotta say something to Yuta... _Hyung I'll be here for you?_ Oh boy, that sounded so insincere? _Do you want to tell me what's going on?_ God, for fuck's sake of course he doesn't want to, Mark you're a dumbass. Um...Um...

“I know you’re the one who saved my life one year ago.” Mark blurted out. Fuck, he wasn’t supposed to say that. Oh God, what does he do now? 

Yuta felt his pulse pounding in his temples. “Mark, I-”

“And I haven’t got to thank you properly for it,” Mark interjected, eyes finally found the courage to look at the man before him. Yuta couldn’t will his lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as he shakily scooted backward, away from Mark, away from his hands and his warmth. It was all too overwhelming for Yuta.

He didn't know how much longer he can deal with all of these...these burdens of being a failure to his dad. The weight of carrying the Nakamoto name he wasn't born for it. The struggle of having to live through each day knowing and not forgetting all of his pasts and history. The soul-crushing guilt of being a _criminal_ to this beautiful angel and his clean-slated world. Yuta is not enough. Not enough for his parents. Not enough for his clan. Not enough for his dad. Not enough for Mark. Not enough for himself. 

“Hyung? What’s wrong?” Mark asked, his eyes desperately searched Yuta’s...waiting. Fuck, he had truly fucked up, hasn’t he?

“I’m sorry, Mark, I-I lied to you” Yuta apologized, his face buried in between his legs, and his voice muffled with sorrow and guilt. Yuta barely got the last part out. They say the pain dulls with time, and that things will get better. But how can they get better when his past always catches up to him and haunt him in the most deadly way possible?

Mark felt the lump in his throat, devastated that he had to watch Yuta like this. “Hyung, what do you mean?”

Yuta finally looked back up, re-adjusting his eyes so they met the younger male. The anger from his eyes showed the scared child within, the little boy who was taught to fight and starved of the love he craved. Mark could see the pain beneath it and his soul drowning in this persona Yuta would carve to fit a world of indifference.

“Because...because of my family! Because of my past! Because of who I am! Mark, do you not understand?!” Yuta was yelling at this point in time. Angry, agitated tears were forming in his eyes and it broke Mark’s heart into a thousand pieces.

“Hyung, what are you talking about?” Mark attempted to cool Yuta down, he reached his hand over and tried to grab the older’s hand again. As his warm hand came in contact with Yuta’s cold, trembling hands, the older pushed him. Mark fell down on his butt with a soft thud.

“Go! Go away!” Yuta yelled, his voice close to hoarse from all the anger, pain, and sadness. He pointed his fingers to the door firmly, sockets red with gravelly raging hot tears, motioning the younger to leave. Mark felt his nose soured and he swallowed.

Mark climbed but up to his knees and grabbed Yuta’s outstretched arm. Before the older male could pretest or stop him, Mark had forcefully pulled Yuta into a tight hug. Shocked and surprised by the unexpectedness, Yuta tried to pull away, but after days of sobbing and wallowing in agony, Yuta had lost all of his strength. Mark, for once, reigned in power.

Yuta sobbed into Mark’s chest unceasingly, hands clutching at his jacket. He held Yuta in silence, rocking him slowly as his tears soaked Mark’s chest. A tiny lapse let him pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears. Mark wiped Yuta's tears away with the back of his hand and let his hand stay on his cheek.

“You’re going to regret staying, Mark,” Yuta whispered, pupils, shifting violently as they struggle to lock onto Mark’s steady, unwavering ones. Mark was calm, and he let the pad of his thumb stroked the base of Yuta's red, swollen eyes.

“I never regret anything with you, Yuta-Hyung,” Mark replied. Then he did what he never expected to do. He leaned in, pushing Yuta all the way so the older male's back touched the wall, and he leaned in. Their lips fit like two puzzle pieces.

Yuta pulled back a little, breaking the kiss and having his foreheads rested against Mark’s. Mark has his eyes closed, his lashes resting on Yuta’s cheeks. Both of their breaths were shaking. "Thank you," Yuta said in barely more than a whisper.

"For what?" Mark replied, his voice low.

"For being here with me,” Yuta’s voice wavered, exhilarated from the tension between them. He then gently leaned in and kissed Mark’s warm lips, this time he took over and took control. They pulled apart and took shaky, shallow breaths. Unable to contain themselves anymore, Yuta held Mark’s head in his hands and pulled him into a fiery and passionate kiss. Mark’s hands work their way around his body, feeling each crevasse, each line along with his perfect physique.

Before Mark realized it, he had laid his back on Yuta’s bed as he matched Yuta’s body's form. Yuta’s hands ventured over his well-built body, exploring. They pull apart and open their eyes. They stare at each other, deep into each other's eyes. Yuta’s full of wonder and love, Mark’s full of curiosity and passion. No words are spoken but a story worthy of them is communicated.

Yuta leaned in and softly kissed up and down Mark’s neck. The younger let out little whimpers of anticipation. Yuta works his way back to her tender, smooth lips. Yuta kissed down from Mark's jaw to his neck, making the younger's head whirled with pleasures. _This feels too good_. Mark subconsciously tugged on Yuta's long, blonde hair, and the older male took that as an encouragement to advance; Yuta grazed his teeth lightly over the skin of his neck, and Mark groaned in pleasure. Mark felt a brief smirk from Yuta against his own skin as the older male pulled away, climbing out of bed and stood hovering over Mark's body, his dress shirt messy and creased, the last few buttons threatening to pop open.

The sudden emptiness hit Mark and he stared at the older male with dejected eyes. He had secretly wished that the older male could advance beyond what they were doing.

Of course, Yuta had planned to go beyond whatever he was doing. Especially how the younger male had seemed so welcoming and _delicious_ under him. God, the lust must have officially taken over his brain and consumed his thoughts, and the rest of whatever he's worried about will have to wait. Now he just wants to power over him and make him feel so, so good. But Yuta is the young master of the Nakamoto clan, surely he wasn't going to let this young man get his hand on him. Not when he hasn't had enough fun on his side. Mark, oh Mark. He's going to have to earn it.

"Mark, stand up," Yuta ordered, mischief and authority glinted in his eyes. Mark swallowed. _God that's so fucking hot._ He craved for Yuta's touch, his embrace, his lips, his warmth, oh _yes, please._

The younger male climbed clumsily to his feet and stood in front of Yuta, reaching both of his hands out to grab Yuta's face, wanting to kiss him. It's not going to be easy. Yuta stopped both of his hands with his own and smirked. Fuck, Mark was turned on by that. If Yuta can get anything hotter than that. He felt his own heartbeat picking up to a new speed. He could die anytime from a heart attack, he thought.

The older male simply pinned Mark against the wall, pushing his body so close Mark could practically feel the warmth radiating off him and the slight cologne weaving between them that he loved. The younger peeped to his left, fuck, a wall. And to his right, fuck a nightstand. And right in front of him, Yuta was staring down at him, face inches apart.

"Where and what are you staring at?" Yuta asked, demanding tone and annoyance in his voice that made Mark swallow. Both in fear and anticipation.

Yuta leaned in close enough to graze his lips against Mark's ear, making him shudder. "Look at something, or _someone else_ , one more time. And you'll be punished. Do you understand?" Yuta whispered, only loud enough for both of them to hear. _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god._ The anticipation, the fear, the dominance. All of these are driving Mark crazy.

"Y...yes..." Mark croaked out, forcing himself to stare back at Yuta's eyes. They were no longer soft and gentle, now they were dark and dominating, a few strands of blonde hair falling before them. 

"Yes, to who?" Yuta asked again, this time his voice deep and husky. Mark felt his knees going weak as his breathing became deeper. The only reason why he hadn’t fallen to his knees was all thanks to Yuta who had been holding him up.

"Yes, Yuta-Hyung," he replied obediently. The older male nodded his head.

"Very good," He praised. Not giving Mark time to rest, he moved one of his hands up to grab Mark's jaw. He was gentle, but he was _assertive,_ and it made Mark feel even more turned on by that if it’s even possible at that point. How could anyone be so dominating, yet so gentle? Then, he leaned in again, hovering his lips playfully just right before Mark's, but he didn't kiss him. When Mark tried to claim his lips, Yuta simply exerted a little more force on his hand, and Mark was pushed back into the wall, again. Yuta's lips were right in front of him, but he felt like it's almost impossible to get it. 

"If you want it, you'll have to earn it. Do you want them?" Yuta asked teasingly, raising one single brow with a loose, lazy smug.

Mark nodded, his eyes not leaving Yuta's lips. Yuta pushed Mark’s chin up, the back of his head pushed against the wall firmly, forcing the younger male to look at him in the eyes.

"Look at me, Mark," he said again, "and I want to hear you speak. Tell me. Do you want them?"

"Yes, I want them, Yuta-Hyung," Mark finally replied. He felt so powerless against Yuta, but God, he can't explain the emotions he was feeling. It's so overpowering, so weak and so submissive. And fuck, he's loving it so, so much.

"Good," Yuta replied simply before pressing his lips back onto the younger's. _Finally._ Yuta moved down to the back of his ear, where he knew it was a sensitive spot of Mark’s. 

“Yuta...Yuta-Hyung…” Mark moaned. His head was fuzzy and nothing seemed to be coherent to him anymore.

And urgh, the way Mark moaned his name in between his lips made Yuta more aroused. Without dislocating from Mark’s body, Yuta pulled the dress shirt off his own body. Mark couldn’t help but stare at the muscles and his tanned skin, littered with old scars but fuck were they hot. Then the two golden dragons caught Mark’s eyes. Before he could stop himself, he had already reached out to trace his fingers against one of the tattoos, from the wrist up to Yuta’s biceps.

Before he could ask Yuta about the tattoos, he felt the older’s hands on the bottom of his shirt and it was over his head swiftly. Mark panicked, he clasped both of his arms across his chest and shied away from Yuta. “Hyung, I- This is my first-” Mark tried not to scream.

Yuta pushed Mark’s naked torso backed onto his bed, pinning his arms back to the sides by sheer force and Mark felt a blush spreading over his face as Yuta’s eyes seemed to be memorizing every detail that he could see. “God, you’re beautiful,” Yuta commented huskily before lowering his lips back to Mark’s. The younger man felt a moan caught in his throat as Yuta accidentally brushed across his bare chest and a nipple, and a whine came out instead. Yuta got hard. Like, properly hard.

Yuta pulled down Mark’s pants, making the younger gasp in surprise at the sudden emptiness. “Hyung!" He squealed as he jolted up from his lying position and attempted to cover himself up.

Kneeling in front of Mark, both knees on the wooden tiles, Yuta took as much of Mark as he could in one go. Mark wanted to die. It felt so good, a whole new sensation he had never felt before. “Ah- Hyung, wait-” Mark whimpered softly. Half of him wanted Yuta to go harder, the other half of him felt so embarrassed he wanted him to stop. It was so fucking conflicting and all Mark could feel was his brain heating up and all he see was shining, blinking neon colors.

Yuta pulled off with a small pop and glanced up at Mark with a mischievous smirk. “Was that good?” He asked, licking his lips and moisturizing them with his saliva. Mark swallowed, his heart hammering at an inhumane speed. The sensation was more than overwhelming. It was exciting, it was scary, and most importantly, it was pleasurable.

“Yes,” He breathed out, panting slightly. “It’s good.”

That’s all Yuta needed to know. His tongue washed up and down Mark's length, licking softly at his head before bringing him back to his mouth. Mark was short of breath, but he was feeling so, so good he can hardly catch his breath. Yuta continued to bob his head up and down, letting Mark’s shaft hit the back of his throat.

Of course, Mark had masturbated before. Every boy had. But nothing reigned, having Yuta’s blowjob was phenomenal. Yuta picked up his speed, his long, blonde hair swinging back and forth. All the friction, pleasure, and frenzy state of mind made Mark come, gasping, into Yuta’s mouth without so much as a warning.

“Oh my God! Yuta-Hyung, I’m so-I’m so sorry!” Mark shrieked, leaping up from the bed as he stared at Yuta bug-eyed. The white, milky liquid overflowing, dripping slightly at the corner of his lips. Mark grimaced in embarrassment and attempted to wipe them away.

But Yuta grabbed onto his arm rather sternly. He then looked straight into Mark’s eyes and made sure they’re gazes locked on before licking his lips sensually and swallowing all of his seminal fluid.

He never had a boyfriend, let alone sex, so this was all very new to Mark. Even so, he knew he had to reciprocate.

“Hyung, let me-” Mark wanted to ask, but as Yuta pulled his dress pants down his leg, Mark paused at the sight. _Sweet Jesus._ Mark knew where that cocky personality came from. Like, literally. Yuta caught sight of Mark’s tempted yet envious eyes and smiled smugly. Mark blink owlishly at him.

The older male pushed him back onto the bed and kissed him again, this time his long, slender fingers curling into Mark’s brown, golden hair. Mark encircled his arms around Yuta and pulled him closer, his arms occasionally traveled down his broad and muscular back, feeling the textures of different scars than ran down his back. Yuta pecked down Mark’s neck and stopped at a particular spot when Mark moaned slightly. He knew that was his sensitive spot. He used his teeth to pull and bit it lightly before sucking on it, eliciting a pleasurable whimper from the younger male. 

“That will, ah-” Mark breathed out. “That will leave a mark.”He only felt Yuta smiling against his skin before repeating it again at a spot somewhere closer down. Yuta was clearly making his own marks on him. And if he wasn’t naked and in bed with Yuta, Mark would have been blushing the hell out with this thought.

Still having Mark pinned beneath him, Yuta reached over to the third drawer of his bedside cabinet and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. Mark felt the rise of his blood pressure, but he knew that this was the least of his worries. Amongst the panicky feeling he was feeling, there was also lust and anticipation. It was overwhelming.

Yuta caged Mark in between his arms and pressed his nose against Mark’s Adam's apple. Mark shuddered and felt goosebumps spreading across his body as he felt Yuta washed his tongue over the spot between his collarbones.

Yuta must have been aiming to kill because as Mark was drowning in between Yuta’s kisses and nibbles, he had felt the older male dragged his fingers sensually up his own thigh, teasingly and sensually, pushing Mark to open his thigh, the younger gritted his teeth in sheer pleasure as his nails dug into Yuta’s biceps. Yuta clicked the bottle open and very gently lifted Mark's legs to press them around his waist. “You ready? Mark? We can wait if you’re not ready,” Yuta asked gently, and probably the first time of that night that Mark had seen his eyes softened, and it was so endearing.

Mark nodded and licked his lips. “Yes, Hyung, I’m ready,” he breathed out. Of course, Mark was nervous. This is a whole new thing he’s experiencing, and not to mention it’s with the most beautiful and perfect man he knew. But he knew there was nothing to be afraid of. Because it’s with Yuta, and he trusts Yuta. 

The older male moved and angled his lubed fingers until they teasingly brushed over Mark's prostate. And Mark moaned and threw his head back against the pillows of Yuta, leaving red, furious fingers and nail marks on Yuta’s arms. Not that the older minded, because if anything, Yuta found it super hot to see this aggressive side of Mark.

Mark felt Yuta’s warm lips engulfing his own and he kissed him back. Then Yuta littered small butterfly kisses around his face as he felt Yuta’s member against him, he tensed up. “Mark,” Yuta whispered against his skin. “Relax, I’ll be gentle I promise.” And then Yuta planted assuring kisses around his jaw as he gave him enough time to relax his tensed muscles.

“Tell me if it gets too much,” Yuta said one last time and waited for Mark to nod before reaching his left hand up and intertwining their fingers together into the bedsheets, his other hand gripped Mark’s hip to keep him still. 

Mark squeezed his eyes shut and groaned the moment Yuta began pressing into him. Yuta didn’t stop to press firm and assuring kisses into his cheeks down to his jaw and down to his neck. “Hyung,” Mark breathed out rather breathlessly as Yuta was finally all the way in. Yuta leveled his eyes to meet the younger one and both of them felt the stirring in their chests. Yuta gave him an encouraging smile.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked as he patiently waited for Mark to get used to his length and size. Mark’s grip on Yuta’s right hand seemed to ease slightly and then he nodded, giving Yuta the green light to advance.

Yuta started moving his hips, and Mark gasped a little, clenching his jaw so tight the veins bulged out on his neck. The initial burning sensation morphed into something of a mixture of pleasure and pain, and it made Mark even more excited.

“Hyung, faster,” Mark choked out slightly as he circled his arms around Yuta, pulling him closer to him. Yuta didn’t need to be told twice. He quickened his pace, snapping his hips hard against Mark. They were skin to skin, burning heat between the two of them. Mark's eyes fluttered at Yuta's feeling so far inside him.

Is sex ever this good? Mark questioned himself and all his life choices. Well, he would never know this since he had dedicated the majority of his time to academics and making new songs. But this, wow, this is amazing. And in that split second, Mark wondered if anyone could ever make him feel as good as Yuta did.

“More,” Mark whispered out, one of his arms unfastened from Yuta’s neck and moved on to the crumpled bed sheet under him. “Yuta-Hyu- Yuta-Hyung, more.” Yuta licked his lips sexily as he smirked with pride. He leaned in and kissed Mark as he quickened his pace.

In between the thrusting, Mark pushed himself high enough to give Yuta a soft peck on the lips. And that prompted Yuta to pick up his pace.

“Yuta-Hyung!” Mark was half screaming and panting. If Mark had felt good earlier he was soaring now. His hands searched for a stable place to hold as Yuta moved, causing Mark to whimper and moan his name at the sensations surrounding him. His hands found Yuta's broad, muscular shoulders and gripped into his flesh as his life depended on it.

Mark almost hated himself for forgetting how physically amazing the guards and men of the Nakamoto family, and now Yuta barely looked tired, but Mark was already near his limit and he wanted to die. _Die of pleasure_.

Yuta's hands roamed Mark’s legs to lift him a bit more, making Mark almost scream from pleasure. His poor body was overwhelmed by all the sensations. Yuta’s lips on his neck and Yuta’s hips using force to make him see stars.

“Hyung, I’m close!” Mark panted, squeezing his eyes shut, the veins on his neck were popping out and Yuta can’t help himself but licked one of them upwards from the base of his neck up, making the pleasure in Mark almost immeasurable.

Mark arched his back as Yuta thrust in deeper, hitting _that_ spot over and over again. “Wait,” Yuta was panting too. “I’m close too.”

Closed to a minute, both of them moaned as they came together, Mark’s back almost bowed with the force of it and Yuta collapsed on top of him, finally _actually_ being tired and spent for the night. He was breathing hard, taking in gulps of air to catch his breath, and Mark could feel the hot air against his skin.

Mark adjusted his body so he could face Yuta. The older male was staring at him apologetically and Mark smiled tiredly back at him. “How are you feeling?” Yuta asked, visibly concerned and worried.

Mark pushed his face into Yuta’s embrace and nuzzled his nose against his chest. “I feel fine.” He blabbered languidly, voice muffled as he squeezed closer to Yuta’s warm body. “It felt amazing, by the way. You felt amazing. Good night, Hyung.”

And before Mark drifted into dreamland, he vaguely heard “Good night, Mark. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your YuMark reward after the very sad previous past of Yuta. (Friends who read this and know me personally...no you don't know me ε=┌( ･_･)┘)
> 
> I know, I know, there are many things that seemed very "???" but I promised you they'll be revealed in the later chapters. Hope all of you had a Good Time reading this chapter.
> 
> Comments very much appreciated, thanks y'all!
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	10. THE BOY WITH THE DRAGON TATTOOS (PART II)

Warmth. It was something Yuta almost forgot how it felt, and never imagined that he would have a chance of feeling it again. And yet, it was the only thing he felt when he was gaining back his consciousness.

At first, everything was blurry, only warm, orangey lights that surrounded him. Yuta vaguely thought that he had reached the heavenly gates.

“Hey sweetie, are you feeling better?” A sweet, soft voice chimed beside him. They reminded Yuta of church bells. Before his vision regained back fully, he subconsciously noted how he was wearing a hand-knitted sweater and a blanket over him. It was weird, it felt unfamiliar. He tilted his head towards the source of the sound and was greeted by a woman in her early 30s. She was wearing a plaited sweater and her long hair tied into a neat ponytail. She looked...nice.

But Yuta knew how much looks can be deceiving. He had met so many people who had tried to hurt him. And this woman could very well be one of them. So, Yuta chose to do what he thought was the best for him. He jumped out of the bed, crawled, and hid somewhere under the bed frame. That way, she couldn’t hurt him.

The woman, much to his surprise, didn’t do anything about it. She didn’t scream at him for his disobedience, she didn’t force him to get out, and she didn’t hit or beat him. Instead, she lowered herself to the wooden-tiled ground and sat there. For a while, all Yuta could see was her torso and her white and pink flora dress. And when he determined that she wouldn’t, or hadn’t decided to hurt him, he allowed his rigid muscles to relax.

“It’s okay,” He heard her say, it was very soft and very pleasing to his ears. “Take your time. Just know that nothing here will hurt you.”

Still, Yuta didn’t leave his spot. He laid on his tummy and waited for her to leave. But she didn’t. She sat right beside him, and when Yuta had come to notice it, he had fallen asleep.

* * *

Sunshine through the window. Flowers by the window sill. Photos on the tables. And food on the tray in front of him. He had been up for a while, but he chose to take his time to admire all these beauties he never had the chance to look at before. _Wow_ _, the food smells delicious._ But Yuta daren’t touch them. He didn’t want to eat food that’s not his. On the fourth day that he was captured into the organization, he was punished once, for stealing food from the guards. He had been starving and had thrown up most of the things he was forced to consume. The main guard who had caught him almost broke his fingers but Natsuki managed to convince him to leave him alone.

“Eat them, they’re for you!” He heard the woman said. She was standing by his door, watching him with a motherly smile. He missed his mother. And he wanted to hug her again. She strolled into the room with a cup in her hand, and she placed it on the tray in front of him. “It’s hot cocoa. They’re the best for winter.”

Yuta still didn’t touch the food. He’s hungry. And he _really, really_ wanted to eat them. But the woman’s presence stressed and scared him. Like she would do something to him if he didn’t comply.

“Eat up your breakfast, sweetie. Food doesn't taste good if they’re cold,” She smiled down at him, ruffled his hair gently, and left the room as fast as she came. As soon as the door closed behind her, Yuta gobbled down the food like a madman. He had been starving for _months_ and this was the first time in a while he had decent food.

* * *

“My name is Haru,” she told him one day. Yuta didn’t look at her, his attention was on the Kalanchoe flowers behind her. “But you can call me ‘older sis’ if you like.”

He didn’t reply to her either, in fact, he hadn’t spoken to her, or anyone, since he had arrived miraculously here. There were a few things Yuta picked up, though. One of them is that he had heard voices and screaming of other children, so he had assumed that this place was either a nursery or an orphanage. Probably the latter. And the second thing was that there were a few other nurses and caretakers, and they came into his room once in a while to clean his plates and check on him. But when they notice how he doesn't want to talk to them, they just leave him be. And he quite like that.

“I brought you some books if you would like to read. I’ll leave them here,” she said cheerily as she took out a few books and placed them on the table. Before she could go, Yuta took a look at her.

“My name is Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta.”

She paused in her track, still as a statue. Before she slowly turned towards him, with a huge, proud grin. “Yuta,” she repeated. “That’s a pretty name.”

* * *

Books. Hot tea. Flowers. Sunlight. Kids. Warmth. These are the things that have been accompanying Yuta for the past five months he had been in the orphanage.

“That day I went to town to get some supplies, and I saw you by the river stream,” Haru casually answered when Yuta asked her how he had ended up here. “You were malnourished and extremely sick, so I brought you back.”

Both of them were in the backyard doing some gardening work. Yuta never played with the other children. They annoyed him and he hated having to deal with their constant cries and screams. Nobody even plays with Gundams and transformers anymore.

“Do you have any recollection of…” Haru paused as she looked at Yuta with a pair of concerning eyes. “Of... your past.”

The younger child licked his lips. “No.” He lied.

How could he have forgotten them? His dad was killed, in front of him. His mom was murdered, simply because she refused to obey. The kidnap, the ropes, and the darkness. The abuse and torture. The knives, guns, and blood. The exhibition trade. Madam Ueto and Mr. Fuji. Natsuki. The escape, the hunger, and the cold.

“That’s fine,” Haru replied, going back to organizing the soil in the black pot. “One day you’ll remember them.”

There was a comfortable silence between both of them as they went back to doing what they have been doing for the whole day. Yuta looked back up to her and studied her for a while.

“Haru?” Yuta called out. The woman looked back at him and flashed him the same motherly smile.

“Yes, Yuta?”

“I’m sorry.”

"You have nothing to be sorry for, dear"

"I know," Yuta replied. He turned his small little back to the pot in front of him. "I just want to say that I'm sorry."  
  


* * *

“His name is Nakamoto Yuta?” The man in front of him asked, the information file in his hand.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five dragons._ Yuta counted. This man in front of him had five golden dragons on his arm and they looked majestic. He usually hated people with tattoos, but this one? This one looks cool.

The man in the black pressed suit sat perfectly straight, an elegant golden round-rimmed glass rested on his nose, his black hair slicked back neatly. Behind him, there were about five or six men, and all of them had guns tucked underneath their jackets. In fact, that was the first thing Yuta noticed when he walked right through the door. They were capable of hurting him.

He was in the study room reading books with Haru when the orphanage warden called for him.

“Yuta,” Mrs. Hamada called out. “Someone’s here to look for you, come follow me.”

The armchair Yuta sat in was so huge it could swallow his body whole, and he felt so, so small sitting across all of these big burly men.

“Yes, he’s Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta,” The warden replied as she rested her huge calloused hands above Yuta’s small, tiny ones. “He’s been here for almost half a year.”

The man rested the file on his crossed leg and studied Yuta with eagle eyes, and the latter squirmed in his seat, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Mrs. Hamada, would you leave us for a while?”

The older woman stood up and bowed politely to the man before ruffling Yuta’s hair. “Don’t be scared, I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as she left the room, the man before him leaned back to the chair easily, but his rigid demeanor not collapsing. “Yuta, I can call you Yuta right?”

The young child nodded, eyes not leaving him; his gaze constantly flickering to the guns on his waist and the tattoos on his arms.

"You didn't really lose your memories, didn't you?" The man asked nonchalantly as a smug smile crept onto his face as Yuta avoided his eyes as if to tacitly acknowledge his statements. The man didn't press on for him to answer him, instead, he sat across him and studied him. Yuta edged backward into the huge armchair, praying something would swallow him.

“Yuta, if I can grant you three wishes, what would those be? The man asked, there was a hint of a smile that lingered on his lips but they disappeared as soon as they came.

The latter pursed his lips and thought carefully. If he could have three wishes granted, what would that be? Money? Nah, he doesn't need that. The latest model of the vintage car figurines that he saw one of the kids hold? That's childish. What else. What else?

“I want my mom and dad back,” he replied carefully. The man nodded.

“Two wishes for two lives.”

“And I want the man who killed them, dead,” Yuta answered darkly, fires of fury and hatred were smoldering in the small narrowed eyes.

The man chuckled cynically as he clapped his hands gracefully as if this was an unusual scene, and what was expected of a young child like Yuta. “I like that in your eyes,” he commented. "Vengeance. Hatred. Agony. And a child who had gone through more than what he deserved for his age."

Yuta stared back at that man, albeit scornfully. He’s no genie, he can’t fulfill any of that.

“Yuta, I’m a businessman, I can’t make wishes come true,” The man finally said as he dusted the imaginary dust on his coat and straightening the non-existent creases on them. He sat up straighter. “ but I make deals.”

“Deals? What do you mean?” Yuta asked as he tilted his curious head to the man.

The man stood up and walked towards him, a mysterious light glinted in his eyes and they sent chills down Yuta’s spine. Wordlessly, the man pushed the long sleeve up Yuta’s small arms, revealing the ugly scars that he had been trying to hide.

“I can, no, **we** can make that person disappear from the surface on earth,” He said, voice deep. “ _Together_.”

Yuta snatched his arms back from the man and pulled his sleeve back down angrily. “What do you mean and why should I trust you?”

“Because, I need you,” The man titled his head to the side and smiled at Yuta, rather bitterly. “I need a successor. A successor who shares my last name.”

Yuta got defensive. “Nakamoto is not exactly the most uncommon last name in Japan, and why do you even need a successor?” Yes, he’s young, but that doesn’t make him ignorant.

The man laughed darkly, and Yuta didn’t know why. He didn’t find that exactly funny.

“You'll find out the reason soon, Yuta. I don't have a son of my own so I need to find a successor who can carry on this name. You think I haven’t found any other children with my last name?” He asked, bemused. Then he opened his jacket wide enough for Yuta to look at the black gun with the golden handle underneath it. “And you think any of them could be my successor?”

Yuta immediately knew what he meant. _Flower breeds from darkness could only bloom in darkness._

"Yuta, look, me and you, we're all in the same game; just different levels. Dealing with the same hell; just different devils," The man continued as he dropped his jacket back down.

“A gun,” Yuta replied quietly. The man cast a questioning look.

“Give me a gun,” He repeated. “And I’ll go with you.”

The man chuckled as he sat back down onto the chair across Yuta. “A whole armory of it.”

* * *

The pistol felt heavy in his tiny hands, but he wouldn’t complain. It felt cold and hard, but most importantly, it felt weird and amazing. Like it _belonged_ to him.

The gun, like Sir Nakamoto's, had a golden design on the handle, but most importantly, the golden and black firearm had his own name carved in gold. It was beautiful. If he were to tell his old classmates that he had a gun and a new cool dad, his classmates would have treated him as a celebrity. But the reality is always different from expectation. He now led a new life his friends could and would never be able to understand.

“I’ll teach you how a pistol works,” The clan leader had said.

It was a Friday when Sir Nakamoto and his men picked him up from the orphanage, he didn’t have much to bring with him except a few hand-me-downs from the older kids and two hand-knitted sweaters from Haru.

“Yuta, remember to always dress warmly during winter, and always eat when you’re hungry,” She nagged at him as she packed his stuff for him while he sat on the bed, watching her running around. He nodded obediently.

“I will, Haru.”

“Always listen to your dad, don’t give him any trouble. And...and…”

Yuta dropped the books from his hands into the duffel bag and ran to Haru.

“Haru, are you...are you crying?” He asked, concerned. Haru dropped the bag she was holding on the floor and gave Yuta a huge, warm hug. One that he dearly missed, craved, and yearned for.

“Read many books, eat many good foods, and grow up healthy,” she sobbed into his small shoulders. He squeezed her back and forced himself to hold back the tears that are welling up. He can’t cry. He’s a man.

“I will, Haru, I will. I’m sorry.”

* * *

His dad’s car was...beautiful. Slick, black shiny car. And he sat at the back with his dad beside him. “Mr. Nakamoto,” Yuta called.

“Yes, Yuta?”

“I want a car.”

The older man chuckled as he patted Yuta’s head. “When you’re 18 and you have your license, I’ll buy you a car.”

* * *

The moon came to the sky as a mother came to sing a soft lullaby, to ease her children into a star-filled night. Yuta felt jealous. This was something he could never get again. How he missed his dad. How he missed his mom. How he missed Haru and her hot cocoa.

Earlier on that day, he had the first dinner with Sir Nakamoto and Yuta had never been more impressed. The amount of food flooded the table, and it almost lacked space for the chef to put down one more dish. It looked like it had been sufficient to feed the entire orphanage Yuta was in.

“Are you okay with the dishes? Do you want something more?” Mr. Nakamoto asked. Yuta shook his head as he climbed onto the dining chair. ”Eat.” The older male said. Yuta dug into the food like a wild animal, inhaling all the food and lack of table manners. But the clan leader kept quiet. Instead, he placed more meat and vegetable into Yuta's bowl, urging him to eat more.

One guard marched into the dining room as they were finishing their meal. “Sir Nakamoto, we have found the organization that killed the Young Master’s parents.”

Yuta visibly jolted to a pause as those old fears ran through his head, bad memories cut loose their chains and invaded his confidence. The bowl that he held in between his hands dropped messily onto the black wooden table with a loud clank.

“Which one of those did it?” As if he hadn’t noticed Yuta’s reaction, Mr. Nakamoto continued to ask.

“The west sector of the _Tsuchigumo_ , Sir,” the guard replied. Yuta felt his small body shuddering. The name, “Tsuchigumo” translates to “Dirt Tarantula”, and Yuta can taste saliva thickening in his throat and beads of sweat trickling down his brow. It felt like it was yesterday when the big, black spider on the man’s arm was staring at him.

* * *

“Yuta? Why are you not sleeping?” Mr. Yamamoto’s voice rang behind him. Yuta jumped from his seat. He had sneaked out of his room and into the backyard. Nakamoto Manor in Japan was huge. Like crazy huge. The clan leader had a pavilion in the backyard, surrounded by bright purple Wisteria trees and Yuta had hidden inside there.

“I can’t sleep,” He admitted. Mr. Yamamoto sat beside him and followed his gaze up to the silver moon.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” He asked, eyes still locked onto the sky

“Not really,” Yuta replied. He followed the clan leader and gazed upwards. “Are you, Mr. Yamamoto?”

The man chuckled lightly. “No, why would I?”

Yuta hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in between them. He didn’t want to admit to him, but he was afraid. Killing someone...sounds like a nightmare.

The man put a hand around his shoulder and patted him comfortably. “You don’t have to do it if you didn’t want to.”

His father’s face flashed through his mind and the way he died. Then he saw mom’s struggling form and he could vaguely imagine moments before she was killed. The memories haunted him, taunted him, replaying like an echo. “No, I want to.”

* * *

Yuta was five when he killed the first man. The maids had dressed him up in a new piece of tailor-made suit that Sir Nakamoto had ordered for him. They had extra padding and they felt especially warm in the cooling autumn. But all of these didn't matter when all he could feel was his own blood running cold.

The lifeless body laid before him and the blood from it pooled before his feet, the spider on the boss's arm still stared at him, but this time, it didn’t look as menacing or intimidating. Yuta watched quietly as the gooey red liquid came in contact with his new, white shoes. The room was dead quiet and yet, his brain echoed the sound of the gunshot, and the gun, the metal that sat so heavy in his palm, felt like an embodiment of human sin.

“Young master? Are you okay?” One of the older guards asked him, his huge, calloused hand reaching up to pat Yuta on his back. As if something had snapped inside him, Yuta staggered backward, his mind swirling, his breaths shallow until he fell in a heap to the floor, staining his pants and hands red with blood.

All the guards and men of Nakamoto stood still, eyes filled with a certain level of understanding and pity. The only person who moved was Sir Nakamoto, who picked Yuta up swiftly from the soiled floor and placed him gently somewhere at the side. He crouched down in front of Yuta as he took the pistol away from his small hand.

“How are you feeling, Yuta?” Sir Nakamoto asked him softly. “I can do the rest for you, do you want me to?”

Yuta, despite shaking and trembling from fear, he bit his own tongue and nodded. Before him and behind Sir Nakamoto were twenty to thirty men being tied up and kneeling. All of them were from the western sector of the _Tsuchigumo_ , arrested and caught by the Nakamoto clan. 

The clan leader smiled warmly before cocking the pistol. He strode towards the group of men sharply and fearlessly. And then he shot the man in front of him right in the head with no hesitation. Yuta jumped from surprise, his eyes not leaving the man who crashed down to the floor, dead. And then the clan leader did that over and over again. He cocked the pistol and shot whoever is nearest to him, then moved on to the next victim. Until he reached a young boy, who looked like he’s about nine or ten. SIr Nakamoto showed no mercy, he titled the pistol in his hand so that the barrel was lined with his skull.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!” Yuta jumped up from his place and leaped towards the clan leader, jumping and skipping over all the bodies and blood piles strewn and floored over the place. The clan leader lowered his gun and gave the kid beside him a complex look.

“Yuta, we don’t leave witnesses-”

“No! You don’t understand!” Yuta yelled. The clan leader raised an eyebrow as he stared at the agitated boy. Yuta had rarely shown any major emotion, and this was the first time he had lost his cool. “You don’t understand! He saved my life! He helped me escape from the abduction!”

* * *

Sir Nakamoto flipped through the papers on his table as the two small children stood across him, staring at him both expectantly and slightly afraid. “What is your full name?” He finally asked, breaking the suffocating silence in the room. Yuta perked up.

“Natsu-Natsuki,” The older boy replied, both of his hands fiddling with each other nervously as he replied to the very intimidating man who sat in front of him. He felt so small standing right in the middle of the room. He felt so poor being surrounded by all the expensive and gold-made furniture. And he felt so unworthy, of being someone part of the _Tsuchigumo._

The clan leader furrowed his brows. “No, your _real_ name.” Natsuki felt his body tensed from nervousness as the clan leader set his brash and razor-sharp eyes on him.

“Jae Yoon. Jung Jae Yoon,” Natsuki replied calmly, but Yuta can tell he had been hiding his nervousness under his calm demeanor, for his palms were littered with nail marks.

The clan leader hummed in response as he put the papers in his hand down. He strolled up to the two boys who stood obediently in the middle of his office and he pulled out two black and red velvet jewelry cases. The clan leader was ginormously tall as compared to the children in front of him and they struggled to look at him in the eyes. Both for his height and his daunting aura.

He gave Yuta the red one, and Yuta received it with both of his hands outstretched.

“This necklace is our clan insignia. Yuta Nakamoto. You’re my legal son from now on,” The clan leader announced. Yuta opened the box and inside of it was a golden necklace with his last name carved into it. He gawked at it before shifting his huge astounded eyes back to the clan leader.

Yes, Sir Nakam- I mean, dad!” He squeaked shyly at the mistake and looked down at his feet. His dad simply put his huge hand on Yuta’s hair and ruffled his hair with affection. “You may be my son, but the training is still tough.”

"Yes, dad."

Then he turned his body towards the taller male and gave him the black velvet box. Natsuki received the box with reluctance. He opened the box. Inside was the same golden insignia, just that he had one in a form of a suit badge.

“Natsuki Nakamoto. That will be your name from now on. You will train with my son, Yuta Nakamoto, and you will be his personal guard, his right-hand man, his _Wakagashira."_ The Clan leader declared. He put his huge hand on Natuski's shoulder. "This is not a question, this is an order. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes! Busy week! Exams and submissions ⤜(XᗩX)⤏
> 
> Anyway, new update! 
> 
> Leave some comments, loves!
> 
> Love, Love Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	11. PLETHORA OF EMOTIONS

Nakamoto Manor was midnight under the cloud, yet beyond was the dawn. Yuta sat in the pavilion in his backyard, an antique cigarette lighter in his hand as his fingers flicked them on and off casually, lost in his own thoughts. He tried to fall asleep. But every single time he closed his eyes, he was haunted by the same memories he had been so desperate to forget. He wrapped Mark with his blanket and double-checked that he hadn’t left any spot uncovered before climbing out of bed.

Yuta could still vividly recall how his body jarred with each blow, how the pain seared through his skin, and took away every feeling of safety he ever had. It was awful. It was disgusting. And the worst of all, it made Yuta hate himself. Like he’s not worthy of being loved. Burning rage hissed through his body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. It was like a volcano erupting; fury sweeping off him like ferocious waves. The wrath consumed like, engulfing his moralities and destroying the boundaries of love.

His hand had hovered over Mark’s cheeks for an eternity before Yuta pushed himself away from the younger male and leaping out of bed. Reality hit him right too quickly in the face. He simply didn’t deserve Mark. 

“It’s almost 5 a.m, you’re not resting?” The familiar, ever gentle voice chimed up behind him. If Yuta hadn't heard those faint footsteps beforehand, he would’ve been caught off guard. The Young Master patted the seat next to him, motioning the new guest to sit down.

“You’re not sleeping too, huh,” Yuta smiled tiredly as he hugged his knees to his chest. He rested his temple against his knee as he studied the older male. Natsuki was wearing a grey sweater, unlike his usual full-black suit. Yuta can’t help but be reminded of all the times in the past where they would sit side-by-side, in casual clothes, formalities and hierarchies dropped between them. It was as if it was yesterday since Natsuki had joined the Nakamoto Clan and become his right-hand man. Time passed too fast and he had been growing up too fast, too.

“Your boyfriend, he’s very polite and gentle,” Natsuki commented half-heartedly. His words splintered inside Yuta causing him more pain. All he could do was to look away and bite the agony and guilt that throbbed in his guts, the veins by his neck and under his jaw prominent. It's deep and warm, but not in a nice way. If Natsuki had noticed his reaction, he had chosen not to say anything. “How’re the wounds on your arm?” His second in command asked instead. He took out a cigarette from his pants pocket and patted his body, looking for his lighter.

“Don’t bother looking for it,” Yuta smiled lazily. He held out the lighter that he had been clicking back and forth in his hand. “I thought you told me you’re quitting .”

Natsuki shook his head with a disapproving grin as he placed it back into the metal cigarette box. “And how many years have I been saying that?”

There was a comfortable silence between them as they sat there just enjoying each other’s presences, Yuta continued to toy with the lighter in his hand as Natsuki stared at the violet sky that seemed to brighten up every passing second.

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Have you found your family yet?” Yuta asked suddenly, breaking the silence in between them. Natsuki smiled slightly.

“Yea, I did.”

“You did?” Yuta’s head shot up as eyes widened with visible happiness. “How about your parents? Are they doing fine?”

Natsuki nodded, a contented grin spread across his face and his eyes disappeared into a slit alongside his smile. It was a rare sight, even for Yuta. When was the last time this man had shown the least bit of happiness? “They seemed to be doing okay the last time I checked. My dad had died, from liver cancer. But my brother- Oh! I haven’t mentioned that I also found out that they got one more son after my second brother!”

It was nice watching him babber on with so much excitement and happiness, all Yuta could do was watch him with an amused smile. “They did? How old are they now?”

“Yea! They did! One of them is 23 years old this year and the other one is 19 years old! And let me tell you about them! They’re so talented!” Natsuki crossed his legs as he rambled on like a child showing off his achievements. It was endearing and sweet. Yuta laughed with him, as if Natuski’s brothers were his brothers, too.

“Are you reconciling with them anytime soon?” Yuta asked lightly. His eyes softened as he watched Natsuki’s face fall slightly and his smile had turned bitter.

“No, but I’m staying optimistic though!” Natsuki shook his head slightly. “I’ll probably look for them after we bring the _Tsuchigumo_ down.”

Yuta smiled back at him. “Yea, when that happens I’ll talk to my dad. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

The silence between them returned. This time, Yuta caught in his own thoughts and Natsuki scanned his worried and tired face.

“Are you still thinking about the _Tsuchigumo_?” Natsuki asked softly. He pushed himself up to a more comfortable position before reaching his hand over and gave the younger male an affirming pat on the back. “You don’t have to worry so much, I have sent Shotaro to look for information on them.”

Yuta buried his face into his hands. “This isn’t about me,” he whispered out. How could he still be breathing when he felt like this? “I’m worried about Mark.”

Natsuki rubbed comforting circles into his back as he thought of what to say next.

“We’ll have this under control, Yuta. Like we always did.”

* * *

Mark wiggled slightly on the huge white bed, stark naked, and he can’t help but grimace at how sore his body was. He buried his face further into the huge pillow and inhaled deeply, taking in the mix fragrance of Yuta’s cologne and his shampoo. A huge grin spread across his cheeks as he patted the bed, looking for the older male.

Yuta was nowhere to be found.

He rolled his lethargic body till he’s facing up and allowing his eyes to get used to the sunlight that had shone into Yuta’s bedroom. Mark lifted a hand up to scratch an itchy spot on his neck only to feel the slight tender bruise. Reality had never hit as hard as it did. Mark felt himself blushing the color of cherry popsicles even before his tired brain could register whatever had happened last night.

He rolled out from bed and to the floor, frantically searching for his clothes. The condition of the room was already bad when he had first entered last night, and it got _way_ worse through the night. Mark wanted to cry. He could no longer differentiate the different pieces of articles of clothing strewn across the floor.

“No...not mine…” Mark muttered to himself as he picked up and dropped garments that’s not his. He finally found his white T-shirt and threw them on immediately, moving on to look for his pants that he swore he had seen seconds ago. A speck of gold caught his eyes and Mark did a double-take.

One of Yuta’s pants...had something golden-ish...metallic...poking out of the waistband from a distance. Mark raised an eyebrow. He quickly threw on his own trousers and skipped over the different articles, almost tripping over a few fabrics that caught his ankles, to inspect the eye-catching...object.

Mark had suspected what it might be, for how many times he had seen it on the guards and men of the Nakamoto Manor. It’s just that...when he’s holding a **gun** in his hand for the first time, he felt like his brain had just...stopped working. Mark drew a sharp breath. This definitely doesn’t look legal. Mark knew and was aware that gun ownership in Korea was, well, legal. But all guns have to be stored at local police stations. Yuta was...breaking the law.

It was...it was conflicting.

He _knew_ that the law was literally the last thing the Nakamoto guards and men were abiding, all of them were specially armed, and it’s illegal for any type of private security personnel to own firearms. But having to _deal_ with knowing that your boyfriend was blatantly breaking the law...Mark felt like he was spiraling into a major cognitive dissonance.

Was he scared? Well, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t. Was he fascinated? Hell yes, he definitely was. Was he weirded out that he had been sleeping in the same room with a lethal weapon? The heat on his cheeks became more and more palpable and Mark had to bite the inside of his cheeks to prevent his mind from going back to last night.

Mark realized it would take time for his brain to find the words to adequately express what he felt. He let his fingers trace the vintage patterns that stretched all the way from the grip to the barrel, rendered so beautiful by the plated gold.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Yuta smoothed out the non-existential creases on his black coat. His hand had hovered over the handle to his room door for almost ten minutes, and he still couldn’t find the courage to open the door. What was he supposed to say? Could he just pretend that nothing had happened and that he felt exactly like what he did before the attack? Every single ounce of his sanity seemed to slip away the more he thought through it, and the more he felt useless and angry knowing that he had put Mark in such a dire situation. How could he ever face him again?

Yuta slid the door open anyway. It’s what he had to face regardless. “Mark...are you awake?” He asked softly as he stepped through the door, half expected the younger male to be still sleeping.

It’s just that...seeing the strong early light shining strongly from the gold-colored barrel of the pistol reflecting a smear of golden back onto Mark’s face as the soulless, gleaming clunks of metal sitting in his hand was the last thing Yuta had expected. Like someone had struck a baseball bat across his temple, Yuta heard ringing sounds echoing through the walls of his brain.

His biggest fear-that Mark would _stumble and fall deeper_ into his deep, dark world, unconsciously-had come through. And no matter how many times Yuta had prepared and even imagined for it to happen, he could never find himself to deal with it in a proper manner, let alone conjuring suitable emotions, or formulating satisfactory decisions or plans or words...or whatever.

Mark had the most perplexing confusion plastered across his face as he stared at Yuta. Time felt like it had stopped. Both of their eyes locked and none of them said a word. Mark with gold plated gun in his hand that didn’t belong to him, and Yuta, his trembling hand still on the handle and his grip tightened.

“Yuta...Hyung…” Mark muttered out, his eyes still on the older male by the door. In his voice, Yuta heard reluctance. Uncertainty. And most importantly, _fear._

“Mark, we need to talk,” Yuta finally breathed out. “Wash up first, I’ll wait for you in the dining room.” Yuta offered him a melancholy smile before he turned, but too slowly to be normal. When he spoke his voice trails slowly, as his words are unwilling to take flight. There is a sadness in his eyes, the brown too glossy.

Under a different circumstance, Mark would’ve reached over and held Yuta in his own embrace. But for this time, Mark didn’t.

* * *

Mark thought moving to Korea all by himself to attend an international school pursuing music and music production was the biggest turning point in his life. And then subsequently, he thought failing his first Korean history exam was the biggest hurdle he could ever have. But to be fair, nothing can ever top sitting in a grand dining room, endless plates of Korean and Japanese cuisine filling up the table, and having Yuta sitting across him with his hands crossed.

This had to be the biggest crisis Mark will ever face.

It was the weirdest feeling and situation Mark could ever be in, too. Firstly, Yuta had the most convoluted and conflicted expressions on his face. He wasn’t necessarily angry or upset...but his expressions were hard to read, and the ambiguity scared Mark. 

Secondly, Mark felt like he had discovered a secret that Yuta had been desperately trying to hide. And digging into them felt like he had been intruding the older’s privacy. Even if it was Yuta's secret being found out, Mark felt like he's the kid that had been caught stealing candy and chocolate bars. For some reason.

Thirdly, he had to sit on his chair, with his hickey-filled neck exposed to the whole world and forcing himself not to retract his neck like a turtle from all the guards and maids who had been giving him judgy stares and questioning looks. Mark wanted to cry.

Just as he was contemplating breaking the silence that lingered in the air, thick and heavy, like a blanket, Yuta finally looked up to him. And it didn’t help when Yuta’s eyes traveled to his neck almost immediately. It felt like someone had suddenly turned on an internal heater inside Mark’s system, and his pale skin slowly turned from a ghastly white to a shade of a ripe strawberry. The younger looked away with red on his face.

“It’s...pretty late into the morning,” Yuta said gently with an assuring smile. “So I got them to cook up both breakfast and lunch for you.”

Mark swallowed nervously. It kinda reminded him of the first time sitting with Yuta at the same table. It also reminded him of the first time he had a meal with him. It felt so nostalgic. He picked up the utensils and started digging into the food. Yuta sat across him studying him, but he wasn’t eating and the plate in front of him was empty. “Hyung, are you not eating?”

Yuta shook his head as he took a deep breath, eyes looking somewhere as if to avoid his questioning gaze. “No, I’m not hungry.”

Mark wanted to say something else. But the tension was thick in the air. There was no sound in the house, yet everyone was moving, moving, and not talking. 

And soon, even the deliciously cooked food tasted like cardboard. No amount of chewing made it possible to swallow. Mark put the chopsticks and spoon down onto the table, the rice in his bowl barely touched, and the cookings on the table all looked like they had just been freshly served. “I’m done,” Mark announced.

Yuta raised one of his brows at him. “You...you barely ate,” Yuta asked. He pushed a few more plates towards him, urging the younger to eat, but Mark simply shook his head.

“No, I’m good,” The younger pressed his lips into a firm line. “Let’s talk.”

* * *

Amazement doesn't quite cover it. Mark felt like someone just took his spark of wonder and poured on kerosine. The surprise and excitement he showed on the outside can't adequately reflect what he felt inside; it's like every neuron of his brain is trying to fire in both directions at once - the best kind of paralysis. His fingers might have been shaky as he ran his index fingers across the golden frame that encased the photograph.

Five minutes ago, Mark wouldn’t have expected his mind to be as bogged as he felt at that moment. “Okay,” Yuta had replied to him. His eyes softened momentarily before his eyes something flickered to something more...covert. “But I need you to follow me somewhere first.” 

Then he stood up gracefully and motioned Mark to follow him, leaving the whole table of (almost) untouched delicacies as he trotted behind the older male. Both of them strode down the endless corridors with the maids, servants, and guards stopping in their tracks to greet them. Mark returned them with hurried and rushed bows whilst also covering his neck by pulling his coat across it and taking bigger strides to catch up with Yuta. Mark heard some of the servants had giggled at his actions but Mark paid them no mind as he almost started jogging to catch up to Yuta.

It was almost frightening how cold and distant Yuta had become overnight; it was as if Mark had switched on an invisible button in him, and it scared the younger male shitless. The Yuta that Mark was familiar with, was one who would take the time of his life to hold his hand and stroll right below the moonlight. The Yuta that Mark was familiar with, was one who would stop to admire him before showering him with affectionate kisses all the way from his forehead down to his nose before going in for a deep and longing kiss. The Yuta that Mark was familiar with, was one who would cover him with thick clothes, blanket, and whispers “I love you” in his ears before he falls asleep. It wasn’t particularly long that Mark had known Yuta, but he found himself forcing himself to think otherwise or he might start tearing right there and then in the middle of the hallway.

Yuta walked through the open arena with the younger male behind him towards a smaller building amongst the buildings that surrounded the headquarter. Mark, at that point in time, was unaware of where he was, but he sure as hell knew that he was once again, mesmerized and intrigued about how big this place was. 

The huge entrance door was held open by another two men who stood guarding that place, and Mark slipped into the dark, unwelcoming entrance closely behind Yuta. Once he stepped in, he was faced with yet another corridor. “Hyu-Hyung,” Mark called out as he panted slightly. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Yuta replied calmly. The traditional paintings and calligraphy scrolls decreased, the corridors and walkways narrowed with each turn and all Mark could feel was his palm getting wetter and wetter despite the air around them becoming intensely cold and thin.

“Ow!” Mark yelped as he crashed his nose straight into Yuta’s shoulder, unable to stop himself right in time, who halted right in front of the biggest traditional sliding door in the building, two other men stood guarding the room. The younger male rubbed his nose painfully as he studied the golden nameplate that stuck outside the room. “Where are we?” Mark asked stupidly as he gave up deciphering the two kanjis. _That’s three years of Japanese lessons going to waste._

“ _Shosai,”_ Yuta replied as he studied Mark with steady yet unreadable eyes. His lips quirked up the slightest bit. “The study.”

“O-oh,” Mark replied, albeit uncertainty. The study was the last place Mark expected Yuta to bring him to. He would have expected anywhere but _here._

The two guards bowed in unison before pulling the doors apart. “Good afternoon, Young Master,” they greeted. Yuta nodded in return before stepping in while Mark bowed back respectfully to the two of them.

The two panels of doors closed behind him and they joined to form a huge painting of the signature twin golden dragon of the Nakamoto Manor, Mark stared at it a bit before turning his back to face the room. The room was rather bare but large and very glorious, and the ceiling was raised, coffered, and decorated with marvelous and detailed traditional paintings. And they were very, very beautiful. The entirety of the room was filled with tatami mats as flooring, built-in shelves on two sides of the walls were filled with books, a low table and two golden cushions sat right in the middle of the room. Mark took some time to admire the interior design, the two hanging scrolls at the side, and the decorative flower arrangement before looking back at Yuta with a spark in his brown eyes.

Yuta took that as a cue to continue and he walked towards the left side of the book as the younger watched him curiously from the back. Yuta pulled a book out and reached his arms into the vacant spot. Something inside the built-in bookcase _clicked_ before the entire half of it seemed to pop forward. Mark gaped in astonishment as he watched Yuta slide the bookcase open, revealing a second door hidden behind the sliding bookcase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> I know, *gasp*, Mark fOunD OuT?! （°o°；）
> 
> It's a double update so remember to check out the next chapter too. Sorry if updates have been slower (or later, depending on your timezone differences from mine) because the school has been extremely blood-sucking.
> 
> Have a great upcoming week, leave me some comments PLEASE <3
> 
> L O V E,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	12. WHEN THE TRUTH COMES OUT

Yuta pressed his thumb onto the fingerprint door lock before twisting the handle of the cryptic high-security door and pushed it open. Mark’s mouth slowly dropped open as he stared at the secret door without blinking. Because  _ what the fuck?  _ This is the kind of thing you see in movies. But this is real life? And it’s happening right in front of him? What?

Yuta held the door open for Mark and nodded his head in the direction of the room, motioning Mark to go in. Freezing and not being able to move, the younger male could only stare at him back with wide eyes and his jaw-dropping to the ground. Yuta licked his lips momentarily before taking the initiative to pull Mark into the room himself.

Mark let out a small gasp as he placed a hand on his throat. The room was...if Mark had to use a word to describe it, golden. 

The secret room was an armory, dissected into two parts. The right side was for all sorts of firearms, sniper rifles, assault rifles, machine guns, handguns...you say it, they have it. All of them had a similar design as Yuta’s pistol, gold plated vintage design that stretched all the way from the grip to the barrel, and it was extremely spectacular. Mark became aware of his own heartbeat and grabbed hold of Yuta and pulled him closer to him. It might be out of reflex, or it might be for some other reasons, Mark wasn’t really sure. 

The left side of the room, however, had multiple photograph frames hung on the wall, some of them stood on the glass cabinet used to keep different combat knives. In between them, Mark could recognize the fixed bladed knife and the fighting utility knife from the Call of Duty game that Chenle always plays on his mobile phone. “Hyung, this is, this is an armory?” Mark asked quietly as he eyed the room with bewilderment, quietly taking the surrounding in. Yuta nodded.

“This is the smallest armory here,” Yuta explained. “Just a collection of what I had when I was younger.”

“Y-younger?” Mark repeated. Yuta could feel the younger’s unconscious twitching of his fingers on his arm.

“It’s a collection of the customized firearms that I had when I was younger. The main armory is in the basement of the main building.” Yuta placed an encouraging hand on Mark's waist and gave him a slight push. “You can look at them if you like. They’re not loaded.”

Mark walked around the room, touching and feeling the firearms, feeling chills running down his spine. Never in his life would he ever imagine coming close to these firearms like this. Maybe the closest will be him visiting a shooting range in the future or something, but the variety of what Yuta had? Unbelievable. Jaw-breaking. Spectacular. And even conjuring all of these adjectives felt inadequate.

Mark went over to the other side of the room. Amazement doesn't quite cover it. Mark felt like someone just took his spark of wonder and poured on kerosine. The surprise and excitement he showed on the outside can't adequately reflect what he felt inside; it's like every neuron of his brain is trying to fire in both directions at once - the best kind of paralysis. His fingers might have been shaky as he ran his index fingers across the golden frame that encased the photograph.

In the photograph was a young boy standing beside a woman in her early 30s in what seemed like a garden. The woman had a beautiful and sweet smile, but the young boy, in contrast, had a straight face. “Yuta-Hyung! Is this you?” Mark squealed excitedly as he picked up the photo frame. Yuta smiled softly at his enthusiasm and nodded.

“Yea, that was me, when I was five years old.”

“Is that your mom?” Mark asked, smiles growing of its own accord as his eyes twinkled with excitement.

Yuta shook his head as he walked behind Mark to look at the photo. “No, she’s Haru.”

“Haru?”

“Yea, she was a caretaker from the orphanage I was in,” Yuta explained. His voice was soft and they came out more like a whisper. But Mark could hear him properly given the close proximity they were in.

Mark felt his stomach verbed.  _ Orphanage?  _ But he clearly remembered…Huh? Mark squeezed his eyes shut, conjuring the memory deep inside his brain.

_ “This place, other than providing the Nakamotos a place for residency, it also serves as the headquarter for the Yaku-,” Hiroshi paused mid-way, pressing a fist embarrassingly on his lips before correcting himself, “I mean, the headquarter for the organized forces of Mr. Nakamoto, Young Master Yuta’s father.” _

Yea, he’s right. Mark clearly remembered Hiroshi talking about Yuta’s father...so why was he in an orphanage?

Taking a deep breath, Mark whirled his body around to face Yuta, who stood rooted to the ground, his face straight. “Hyung, I-I um,” Mark wanted to ask him. But being so close to Yuta, enclosed between him and the cabinet, clearly wasn’t a good idea as the words stuck in his throat like his brain was too occupied to formulate a proper sentence.

“Mark?” As if he hadn’t noticed the red in Mark’s cheeks and how the younger was avoiding his eyes, Yuta asked with a raised brow.

“I, um, I heard from Hiroshi that um, you have a dad?” the rest of his sentence almost came out as a whisper, but Yuta heard it clearly. The older male broke into an unreadable, yet vacant smile. Mark shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry, Hyung, I didn’t mean to, um, intrude.

Yuta looked down and laughed a little. He took a step back and allowed more space to fill in between the both of them before looking back up to the younger male. This time, his eyes were steady and assertive. “No, you’re not intruding. I  **allowed** you to.”

A rush of energy filled his head as his heartbeats reverberated in his head. Mark chose to keep quiet as he didn’t quite know how to answer  _ that. _

“I know what you’re going to ask me,” Yuta continued. He jabbed his chin towards the photo frame still in Mark’s hand. “My biological parents died when I was four.”

“Four?” Mark felt his eyes go wide as dinner plates.

“My family owned a little factory in Osaka, and we were always in debt to the landlords. Our town was governed by a small  _ gokudou,  _ you know, like a gang organization.”

Yuta paused to let Mark take in the detail before continuing. “They killed my dad and my mom and I was taken by the local boss in an attempt to sell me off into the child trafficking ring that they had connections with.” Yuta quietly relayed his past to Mark in the most civilized ways he could, sparring the younger male all the gruesome and cruel details as he was quite sure that Mark wouldn’t be able to stomach them.

Mark knew that Yuta had been filtering the things he had been saying. And despite all of that, he could already imagine what sort of hardships the older male had gone through at such a young age. His chin quivered before he started chewing on his lower lip and his eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey,” Yuta called out gently as he raised the back of his hand to Mark’s cheeks and wiped the single streak of tears that escaped his eyes. “Don’t cry.”

Having Yuta said that with such great nonchalant, a great sob escaped Mark as tears of pain ran down his cheeks, he covered his face with shaking hands. How much did Yuta have to go through before all the pain had numbed inside him? How much worse things did he have to go through for him to say all of these expressionless? Why, oh why, did Yuta have to go through all of these unjust at such a young age?

Yuta pressed his lips into a firm line as he stroked the back of Mark’s head soothingly.

“I hate them,” Mark finally blurted out after what seemed like forever. He had wiped his eyes so much they were red and swollen. “What happened after that?”

Yuta shrugged. “I escaped. And Haru found me knocked out by a river. She brought me back to the orphanage and I stayed there for half a year before my dad, the one you heard from Hiroshi, adopted me.”

Mark sniffled before pulling Yuta into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry you had to go through those. I really am.”

Yuta pulled away after a moment. He grabbed onto Mark’s shoulders firmly and made sure that the younger male was looking at him. “Mark, listen to me,” Yuta insisted. “I want you to listen to what I have to say, and I want you to make the decision yourself, okay?”

Mark’s posture stiffened under Yuta’s grasp and he nodded almost mechanically.

“My dad who adopted me. He’s the leader of the  _ Yakuza  _ clan, the Nakamoto clan.  _ Yakuza  _ is a Mafia-like criminal organization, and that automatically made me the son of a  _ Yakuza  _ leader,” Yuta emphasized. Both of his eyes studied the younger male, who was still held in between him. Mark’s face blanked as the metal wheels in his brain churned.

If anything, Yuta’s explanation made  _ so much  _ more sense than the one Mark had imagined. He should have known. Yes, a mafia organization would have explained everything _. A celebrity? Son of a billionaire?Son of wanted people? Son of politicians? God, wow, he’s  _ **_so_ ** _ close.  _ He would have called himself a genius for his amazing deduction skills. But it was so, so close he still couldn’t believe how he let it slip right over his head. He weighed between telling Yuta the truth or keeping it to himself.

“I actually made similar guesses, um, the first time before I came over here,” Mark confessed as he scratched the back of his head, looking away, clearly embarrassed.

This time, it was Yuta who watched Mark with a surprised look. He let go of Mark, feeling heavy in his stomach. With a soft, shaky voice, he asked him, “You did?”

Mark avoided eye contact and coughed before he nodded vaguely. “My guesses were close but not the same.”

“And you chose to stay?!” Yuta almost shouted, desperation and exasperation evident in his voice. Why would Mark still stayed by him? Why would such a saint, like Mark, choose to be with a sinner like him? It felt like time suddenly stopped as Yuta watched Mark blinked back at him thoughtfully.

“If I had made a different decision that night I wouldn’t be here now,” Mark answered, his eyes still glistening with the remnants of his tears. “If I hadn’t had you by my side, I would have never become complete.”

His honest eyes bored into Yuta’s as if trying to convince the older male that he was not lying. However, Yuta found it hard to believe. He'd always been so honest and telling, so Yuta wondered why he didn't believe Mark now. His quivering lower lip begged Yuta to believe him, his heart told him Mark would never lie to him, his mind said to believe and trust him...But Yuta’s guts convinced him Mark lied…

The next thing Yuta knew, Mark had slammed his lips aggressively to his and nearly knocked all wind from the older male’s lungs. “Mark, wait-” Yuta hardly had a moment to react before Mark pressed his tongue to the seam of Yuta’s lips and, at his grant of access, delved inside his mouth. It was extremely chaste and heartfelt, and Yuta almost smiled at how inexperienced Mark had moved his lips and tongue to the kiss. 

Unexpectedly, Yuta’s hand drifted to Mark’s hip. It settled there and pulled the younger male closer. Mark inhaled sharply. He was against Yuta’s warm chest, chiseled to perfection. Must Yuta be so perfect? Yuta’s breathing quickened as did Mark’s. He began nuzzling Mark’s neck with delicate kisses. So faint, they were whispers. Mark’s limp body began to tremble uncontrollably. Yuta’s head was angled slightly to the side as his lips came closer and closer to his. Mark was surprised to find his own lips parted. Their breaths mingled. Mark’s heart fluttered inside his chest. At first, it was a delicate butterfly of a kiss. Then his arms encircled him.

When Mark kissed him, Yuta’s brain lit on fire and the warmth spread throughout his entire body. After that, he was sure he was addicted, he couldn't bear not to be with him. Those kisses were his salvation and his torment. Yuta lived for them and he would gladly die with the memory of them on his lips. He swore to himself that he’s going to dedicate his life to being with Mark from the moment of that first kiss, for he knew that if he lost Mark, he would lose himself. Mark was the half that made him whole.

* * *

Mark fell asleep all the way back from the Nakamoto Manor back to his university. The previous night had been extremely  _ hectic _ and the day with Yuta had been...overwhelming, to say the least. But at least, for what it’s worth, Mark considered it to be a great conclusion.

“So, um, did your dad treat you well?” Mark had asked carefully as both of them walked back to the main quarter, hand in hand. “Like, you know, after the adoption.”

Yuta let out a carefree chuckle that Mark missed so much. “Yea, he treated me like a real son. He really doted on me a lot, even if the training were hard.”

Mark nodded understandingly. “That’s nice.”

“Even though I should say, he's a pretty questionable dad looking back,” Yuta laughed rather freely. “Which dad would teach a five-year-old how to load and shoot a gun, huh.”

Mark stared at him for a bit and admired everything about Yuta, from the way the breeze blew his hair to the soft amusement to his voice. Yuta had taken off his black coat and held them in his arms, his tattoos visible. If Mark looked at them closely, he could make out the old scars that hid behind the golden intricate, yet ferocious dragons. Mark saw the pain in those eyes of the dragons, and he knew they had sat there for their lifetime. He stopped walking and pulled Yuta into a tight embrace, burning his face and nuzzling his nose into Yuta’s neck.

“Hyung, I’m so glad you made it out of that place,” Mark’s vision was blurry; it was difficult for him to see clearly so he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the tears out, out of Yuta’s sight. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

Yuta patted Mark’s head affectionately and wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer, gently rubbing the younger male’s arm. “Thank you, Mark.”

* * *

His  _ Wakagashira  _ gave him his coat and bowed. “Young master, we’ll leave in five.”

Yuta nodded as he straightened the suit coat, eyes trained at his own reflection in the mirror. “Who’s sending him back?”

Natsuki smiled softly. “The two men that he’s most familiar with, Kentaro and Hiroshi,” he answered politely.

Yuta nodded as he reached for the black-tie that rested beside him. “Whom from our side will be going to the meeting later?”

“Shotaro will be joining too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hello again,
> 
> In conclusion: |°з°| yes |°з°| I love kisses
> 
> BUT the story is not ending any time soon :') 
> 
> Please leave me comments I'm dying ○几
> 
> Much love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	13. ICE COLD ATTITUDE AND WARM BAKED COOKIES

Mark was promptly pulled into a tight bear hug by Lucas the moment he stepped through the room of his dormitory room. Lucas was always closer to the touchy side but never the kind to show physical affection, so it was a great surprise for Mark. “Oh my God, I’m so worried,” Lucas gasped out as he squeezed Mark tighter.

“Lucas, I’m okay,” Mark mumbled tiredly against Lucas' chest as he patted the taller male’s shoulder assuringly. Lucas let go of him and stared at him with his huge eyes with concern overflowing over them, which made Mark subconsciously pulled his collar higher to hide all the hickeys and bruises on his neck.

Lucas had seen them the moment Mark stepped through the door but his friend’s safety had been more important, he guessed the poking fun could happen later. “You didn’t answer your call,” Lucas reprimanded, his brows furrowed. “Your phone, they didn’t go through.”

Mark raised his brow and fished his phone out from his back pocket. They had already turned off after the battery depleted overnight. He grimaced apologetically and held his screen up for Lucas to see. “Ah shit, sorry, it died.”

Lucas shook his head and scrunched his nose up in a disapproving manner. “I was so worried for you and yet you had such a...hot and steamy night with your boyfriend.”

“I’m so-sorry, okay…” Mark shuttered as he blushed, trying to hide his face from Lucas. The taller-male only laughed, his deep chuckle bouncing off the thin walls of the room, lighting up the atmosphere.

“You’re forgiven...for now!” Lucas exclaimed. “You look like shit, Mark. Go to sleep. I’ll make fun of you when you wake up.”

The shorter male giggled at his shenanigans as he hung his coat up behind the door. “Where’s the rest?”

“Chenle and Hendery went to the Gaming cafe, Xiaojun and Renjun went to the cat cafe in Gangnam,” Lucas replied half-heartedly as he pulled out a leather jacket from his wardrobe. “And I’m going to go shopping with WinWin and Ten-Hyung.”

Mark hummed in reply as he flopped onto his small bed. “Where’s Shotaro?”

Lucas stared at him for a moment before shrugging.

“I don’t know, he only said he’s going out somewhere to meet someone.”

* * *

The few congressmen, politicians, businessmen, and moguls were invited to the meeting room in one of the biggest and the most expensive hotels in Korea, which was unsurprisingly owned by the Nakamoto group in Korea. These people were highly connected to the underworld. This meant that they worked with different mafia or criminal organizations that operate beyond the law to gain power, money, and status. 

The assistant ushered them in and Shotaro put on his signature eye smile. But the twirling of the pen between his fingers didn’t stop. 

All of them eyed him with a disdainful grimace as they took seats around the table. Well, who could blame them? They were invited into a hugely important meeting and the first person they met in the meeting room was a boy who looked like he’s 15 or 16. Not only he didn’t stand up to greet them, on top of that, but he also wasn’t wearing proper formal suits like the rest of them were. He had a blazer over a black T-shirt, and he wasn’t even in proper dress pants. If not for the golden NAKAMOTO badge he had on his jacket, that indicated that he was in a much higher position than the rest of them were, they would’ve said something scornful to him.

“Sir Nakamoto is here,” The assistant announced as the two guards pulled open the door. The whole room of people stood up and prepared themselves to welcome and greet the young master of the Nakamoto Clan.

Yuta strode in confidently, with his  _ Wakagashira  _ and  _ Shategashira  _ following closely behind him, imposing such strong, suffocating aura that the room full of big shots felt small despite having far way more people than the three. It was the kind of air that made people struggle with breathing. Yuta scanned the room once and had the majority of the men in the room avoiding his gaze; some of them gulped nervously as they lowered his gaze and some of them pretended to look away with nervousness obvious on their face. Of course, there were those who refused to back down, but they were the scarce minority.

This wasn’t anything new to Yuta. The Nakamoto Clan had been the biggest and the most powerful in Japan. And they hold great influence and connections globally, be it the virtuous or the criminous sides, so it’s natural and  _ rightfully so _ that he had been feared and respected by many.

The assistant pulled the chair out of the head of the table for Yuta, and the young master leaned back into the huge chair elegantly. He fiddled with his ring a bit as he waited for everyone else to sit down. His blonde hair was slicked to the back, leaving a few strands falling on top of his forehead. The arrogance he exuded from his aura was so condescending that no one else seems to matter.

“Sir Nakamoto, I know this may be inappropriate but there is something I have to say,” Mr. Hong, the congressman spoke up from where he was. He was one of the few who recognized his power amongst all the other parties in the room.

Yuta nodded and motioned him to continue. The congressman pointed towards Shotaro in a condescending manner. “I would have understood your given status as the young master of the Nakamoto Clan, but don’t you think he’s too young and immature to be considered as part of this meeting?”

The rest of the board members secretly agreed with him while Shotaro, together with Yuta and his two underlings, turned to look at Mr Hong; Shotaro had the most incredulous smirk on his face and Yuta cryptically smiled to himself. Shotaro didn’t wait for Yuta to explain it for him, for he knew the older male so well he knew that Yuta would’ve let him settle this himself.

“You really think so?” Shotaro asked rather teasingly, and it might have annoyed the congressman to a great extent. Mr Hong frowned angrily as he slammed a fist on the table.

“Is this your attitu-”

“Yes.” Shotaro didn’t give him sufficient time to finish his sentence before appearing right behind him at lightning speed, none of them had any time to blink before realizing a dagger had been pressed against the neck of the congressman, Shotaro being the man behind the weapon. Mr. Hong numbed as he stared to the front with his eyes wide opened and back straightened, an angry red line surfacing on his neck under the silver blade.

Yuta pressed a fist against his lips to suppress a chuckle, still, the smile and sniggering evident to everyone. “Shotaro Osaki is the best informant in the country, or possibly the best in the world. You might want to apologize before he changed his mind about sparing you a life.”

“So-Sorry! Please spare my life!” Mr. Hong urged out. Shotaro could tell he was very scared, hardly breathing at all. He retracted the dagger and tucked them back into the holster under his jacket.

“Apologies accepted,” He replied cutely with the sweetest eye smiles before sauntering back to his seat.

“Alright let’s start the meeting,” Yuta continued like nothing had happened. “I’m sure you have already heard from my second-in-command. We need alliances to bring the  _ Tsuchigumo  _ down. Today, I hope that we can come to a consensus and that the Nakamoto Group can receive some financial and political aid from you.”

Shotaro pushed an envelope towards Yuta. “Their men have been seen lurking around Seoul. I have gotten the South clan to limit and watch out for them, but they are increasing in numbers.”

Yuta pursed his lips. He didn’t even need to look at the photographs inside the envelope to know that these low lives have been increasing like pests. Instead, he took the time to study the faces and expressions of those who participated...They didn’t look too good. In fact, some of them, or should he say, _all of them_ have been purposefully avoiding his attention. It’s as if...it’s as if they have been hiding something from him, and Yuta wasn’t pleased.

His temper sparked. Yuta leaned backward with his arms crossed, his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek before pursing his lips. A slight furrow between his brows as he stared pointedly at Mr. Kim, the CEO who ran the largest producers of electronic products in Korea, and with an icy coldness, Yuta asked him, “Tell me, Mr. Kim, what are your thoughts?”

Mr. Kim looked like he was about to cry, like an unprepared student being called out and humiliated by his teacher. “Si-sir Nakamoto, ple-please hear me out,” He stammered, hands busy digging through his suitcase. Then he pulled out a clear folder with a contract and gave it to the assistant. The young lady brought the file to Yuta, we had his brows knitted together.

Yuta flipped the file open and read the content of what’s written on the first page. Every single word stung, only fueling the fire that burned inside of him. He felt his chest tightened into a knot like a cramp and a quiet rage built inside. “What the hell is this?” Yuta snapped as he threw the file onto the table with a loud thud.

“Thre-three months a-ago, the  _ Tsuchigumo  _ group had already ma-made a deal with us,” Mr. Kim ducked his head as he explained timidly, his teeth chattered in fear. He looked up a bit and saw Yuta’s white knuckles from clenching his fist too hard, eyes narrowed towards him in anger. He gulped nervously.

“We really didn’t know you’re making this deal with us! I swear! We didn’t do this on purpose!” Mr. Kim pleaded as he rushed to his knees, palms rubbing together as he pleaded for forgiveness. Yuta forced himself to swallow the anger. He stretched his neck and closed his eyes for a bit before looking back at Mr. Kim.

“What is it in for you that got you barking for them?”

Mr. Kim buried his face into his palms as gut-wrenching sobs tore through his chest. “My daughter’s safe-safety was threatened. They say if we didn’t comply, they would kill her on the sp-spot,” He cried. “They held her at gunpoint, Sir Nakamoto, at gunpoint! There was nothing I could do!”

Burning rage hissed through Yuta’s body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. He didn’t need to probe to know that the rest of the seven men were given similar, or if not, worse, treatments and were forced into complying. He flipped the file to the last page. 

The  _ Tsuchigumo  _ group had promised to keep their family and their business alive with a 30% investment under only  _ one  _ single agreement in the contract:  **To never work with or help the Nakamoto Group in any single way.**

* * *

“Shotaro! Shotaro!” Mark exclaimed as he waved excitedly, seeing the younger male strolling towards him. Shotaro waved back cutely from afar with a sweet smile before jogging towards him.

“Hyung, what a coincidence!” He mused, tilting his head cutely towards Mark. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Mark scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. “I actually signed up for a curriculum culinary class last week…” Mark giggled cutely, shaking the yellow lunchbox lightly. “I made chocolate cookies for my boyfriend. He seemed pretty down the last time I met him...Oh, you know what, I made extra for you guys too!”

Shotaro chuckled cutely at his enthusiasm and nodded eagerly. “I love chocolate cookies!”

Mark opened up his lunchbox and gestured to the younger male to take one, and Shotaro gladly complied with a soft polite “thanks”.

“Oh right, where were you last week? I asked Lucas and he said you were out to meet someone,” Mark asked casually. He took one cookie out and started nibbling on it. It didn’t taste so bad. It’s pretty good, Mark smiled quietly to himself.

“M-me? Oh- I went out to meet a friend from my dance crew!” Shotaro smiled rather bashfully. “Your cookie is amazing.”

“Woah, they must be pretty skilled in dancing if they’re in your dance crew,” Mark marveled as he offered the younger male one more cookie. “Do they attend our school?”

The younger male shook his head as he bit into the cookie. “Nope, some of them graduated.”

“Oh cool, alumni!”

* * *

“Yuta-Hyung, are you free to talk now?” Mark fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he paced around his room nervously.

“Hey Mark,” Yuta had picked up almost immediately after the first ring. “Uh- Yea, yea, I’m free to talk now. What’s up?”

Mark bit his lips. “Would you- would you be free this week?”

“This week? Yea, I’m pretty free tomorrow.”

His breathing rapid and shallow, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. Mark took a deep breath and reminded himself to control his own breathing, his stomach all knotted up. “Can you go on a date with me tomorrow? I have something for you.”

Yuta let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, of course. Where are we going?”

To be honest, Mark had been planning this date for the past 48 hours. Yuta had been the one so giving and loving towards him, bringing him to expensive restaurants and buying him tonic drinks...Of course, Mark didn’t have that money to do that. And that’s why he’s paying it back with his own ways.

“I have planned the date for tomorrow! It’s going to be in town!” Mark gushed excitedly as he plopped down onto his mattress.

The other side of the call went silent and Mark felt his heart stopped physically. With butterflies in his stomach and his head buzzing with possibilities, he sat up straighter. Did Yuta not like the idea of the date he had planned? Was it too humble and...beggar-ish for someone affluent like Yuta? Mark planted his face into the blanket and punched himself in the face over and over again he could almost feel the physical pain. Oh boy, he should have considered something els-

“Mark,” Yuta finally answered what seemed like forever. “Yea, of course, I’ll love to.”

Mark felt like he could finally breathe. He flipped his body so he could lie on the mattress on his back, allowing the tensed muscles to relax momentarily before he started chewing on his lips nervously again. “Are-are you sure, Hyung? Do you want me to plan something else?”

Yuta laughed quietly. “No, no, Mark, I would love to go with whatever you have planned. I’m serious.”

Mark felt a smile forcing its way onto his cheeks as he fought the urge to bury his face back into the blanket and screech into the mattress.

“Oh, let me know what you’re wearing so I can wear something that matches yours.”

* * *

Yuta was in a meeting with a few shareholders when Mark called. But there was no way he could turn down the call. Especially if it’s from Mark. Not even excusing himself before answering his phone, Yuta simply held out a finger to silence everyone in the room.

“Would you- would you be free this week?” Mark had asked him. Yuta pursed his lips up slightly as he ran through all the schedule he had in the week. Unfortunately, all of them are fully booked, from Monday to Sunday.

But he supposed the meeting with the foreign bankers tomorrow can be cancelled or rescheduled or whatever. Yuta didn’t really care. At least whatever Mark was going to do or say take higher priority. “This week? Yea, I’m pretty free tomorrow,” Yuta replied, not before shooting his  _ Wakagashira _ a look, who immediately caught onto his message and bowed.

“I’ll reschedule it for you,” Natsuki mouthed quietly to Yuta.

“Can you go on a date with me tomorrow? I have something for you.” Mark had said, which made Yuta chuckle softly. The few shareholders stared at each other with disbelieving looks clear on their faces. Yuta Nakamoto was known to be one of the hardest businessmen to please, and yet, here he was, smiling all genuinely and cutely to whoever was on the phone. Had this man gone bonkers? 

Yuta tapped his pen rhythmically against the smooth leather of the file on his table. “Yeah, of course. Where are we going?”

“I have planned the date for tomorrow! It’s going to be in town!” Mark had answered him all excitedly. The tapping stopped as his face fell almost instantaneously.

It’s not safe for Mark to be out with the  _ Tsuchigumo _ men running about in town, and Yuta was aware of how it would put both of them into potential grave dangers if they weren’t careful about it. Yuta fiddled with the pen he was holding and cast a worried look towards Natsuki who was standing behind him. His  _ Wakagashira _ bowed his body towards him and Yuta covered the mouthpiece of his phone before whispering to Natsuki.

“He wants to go on a date in town.”

Natsuki looked to the ground as he formulated a plan in his head. “We’ll increase security. Don’t worry, just go on the date and have fun. Our men will be out of sight. One group will keep Mark in their line of vision in case anything happens.”

Yuta nodded and licked his lips nervously before going back onto the call. “Mark, yea, of course, I’ll love to.”

* * *

Lucas was watching Mark through half-opened eyes. The brown-haired male had been pacing around the room and throwing on different outfits, but none of them seem to catch his eyes. Almost all of his clothes have been removed from his wardrobe and dumped on his bed, and yet, none of them satisfied Mark.

“Marrrrk,” Lucas called out groggily as he repositioned himself to look at his friend. Mark turned towards him and raised an eyebrow, Lucas simply pointed a finger to his wardrobe. “Take the new sweater from my wardrobe.” 

Mark opened his wardrobe and glanced it over. Lucas definitely had the most fashionable clothes and he could never compete with his fashion sense. “Which one?” Mark questioned, his hands automatically raised to rake through each and every one of them, marveling at some of the weirder clothes that Lucas’s model-body had pulled off.

“Far left. White.” Lucas mumbled before closing his eyes again. “Bought that when I went shopping with Ten and SiCheng-Hyung…”

Mark licked his lips before pulling out Lucas’s newly bought sweater. It was very cute and fashionable. Even though he had told Yuta to dress in something more casual, he still wanted to dress pretty so he could impress him. The sweater was vintage-styled and very oversized for him. Dang, he’ll look good in this. “But, isn’t this new?”

“Mmmmmmm….whatever…” Lucas groaned out, obviously drifting back into his dreamland. “...just wear it…”

Mark puffed out his cheeks before smiling gratefully at his half-dead friend. “Thanks!” This had been the umpteenth time Lucas had saved him from yet another fashion disaster.

He threw on the oversized sweater and pulled a pair of jeans on. Yeap, he definitely looked so much better than the previous outfit that he was originally going to go with. Mark checked the watch on his wrist and his breathing quickened. 5 minutes till he’ll be meeting Yuta. Despite telling Yuta that he had planned the date, the older male still insisted on picking him up from school.

“Why? Do I look like someone who’ll let my boyfriend travel anywhere by public transport?” Yuta had joked the previous night when Mark called to confirm the details with him. Mark burst out laughing. 

“No, Hyung! I’m the one who asked you out!” Happiness clearly washed over him, his fingers busy playing with the fabric of his blanket. “I should be the one driving...but now you’re driving us.”

Anyhow, Mark had conceded after (not so much) persuasion from Yuta. He grabbed his keys and the box of chocolate cookies and threw on a pair of sneakers. “Bye Lucas,” Mark saluted knowing the taller male was probably too tired and sleepy to reply to him.

Yuta had already arrived when Mark reached the school carpet. Coincidentally, Yuta had an oversized white hoodie on, which made joy rippled through Mark because...holy moly! Fate! 

Mark waved his hand a little, catching Yuta’s attention. Yuta broke into a huge grin, eyes sparkling as Mark jogged towards him. “Mark!” he exclaimed.

He walked up to Mark slowly and pulled the younger male closer to him wrapping his arms around Mark. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective when wrapped around Mark’s lean body. The world around Mark melted away as he squeezed Yuta back, not wanting the moment to end. Yuta ruffled his hair affectionately before pulling away. “Missed you,” Yuta murmured as he raised a finger to stroke Mark’s prominent cheekbone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayoooooooooooo howamistillalive ( . •́ _ʖ •̀ .) 
> 
> Anywhooooo yes, some cute chapter... (Cute because I love the duality of the Japanese men)
> 
> Thanks for all of your kind supports, kudos, and comments! They really pushed and motivated me, I love all of you so much.
> 
> Disclaimer: No, the story is not ending in 2 chapters, I just did that because I didn't want AO3 to mark my story as completed. The chapters might exceed 15 chapters (which I really blame my friend for milking me (；⌣̀_⌣́) If you're reading this A/N just know that I really hate you but my readers really love you)
> 
> Enjoy this chapter <3 Leave some comments, I really love reading them! See ya (｡•́︿•̀｡)
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	14. ART OF LOVE

“So I made this cookie…” Mark quietly slid the box of cookies out onto his lap and stole a glance at Yuta, who’s eyes were trained on the road and hands skillfully resting on the steering wheel. He sheepishly laughed as he scratched the back of his head. “I burnt the first two batches of them and I only picked the few good ones for you…”

Yuta looked at Mark playfully, the side of his lips quirked up. “Seems like our Marky have been working hard to cook for me.”

Mark laughed rather shyly as he shook his head relentlessly. “I’m super bad at cooking, my roommates and friends can vouch for me.”

Yuta used his free hand to ruffle Mark’s hair lovingly. “That’s fine. I’m pretty bad at cooking too. Lucky for us, I have chefs at home, and they can cook good food for us.” Yuta looked away from the road and back at Mark with a shit-eating grin. “So come over more often. That way I can get them to cook delicious dishes for you.”

The younger male laughed out loud at his statement, but he soon bit his tongue and shut up when Yuta casually placed his hand on Mark’s thigh and gave it an absentminded squeeze. The younger male had to use all of his willpower to stop himself from whimpering out loud as he whipped his head towards the direction of the window to hide his bashfulness. Yuta knew what he was doing to him, but would he stop? Of course not, why would he? He knew how sensitive his thigh was and he was enjoying this so much.

“Is that the cafe you mentioned?” Yuta’s hand finally lifted from his thigh and pointed to a classy looking cafe located in Myeong-dong. Mark secretly let out a sigh of relief. He nodded. “That’s the one.”

Before Yuta got out of his parked car, he noticed one of his men’s black car rolling into the parking space behind him, and another two driving into the parking lots. His eyes flickered between the cars, head full of nagging bad thoughts. _Mark...should be fine. Right?_ “Mark,” Yuta gave the rear mirror one last look before hopping off the car. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The tiny café huddled despondent among the huge city buildings. Washed out under the overcast sky, it hunched in itself, fighting against the drizzle. Hundreds of people rushed by it, outside on the crowded street. The half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colorful walls. The customers returned to their conversations as the door swung closed behind the new entrant and the cold breeze was forgotten. Mark closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath like the fragrance of coffee and pastry flooded his lungs. When he opened his eyes, he noticed the little candle cups on the table and his eyes shined excitedly. He caught Yuta staring at him with a tender smile and he smiled back, though he was rather shy with the way Yuta had been watching him.

“Good morning! Table for-” A sickeningly sweet voice rang from behind them and they whipped their heads around. Only to see a waitress close to Mark’s age, her make-up clearly too pale for her skin color and her outfit a little too revealing to be considered professional for someone who was working. Mark bowed slightly at her while Yuta shot her a judgemental look. 

“Table for two,” Yuta interjected her coldly as she stared back flirtatiously. Mark shot both of them a nervous glance back and forth before staring at the waitress with an unsettling look. She swept her long flowing hair back with a seductive and caressed her neck sensually, all the while making sure Yuta was watching her. Fuck, Mark really hated this. But if anything, he chose to keep quiet because well, who wouldn’t be attracted to Yuta Nakamoto. On top of that, he trusted Yuta.

“Alrighty, follow me,” She sang before whipping her head, trudging towards the corner table for two. Yuta shook his head with much resignation as he slid a hand behind Mark, and guided the younger male forward lightly. 

Yuta pulled the chair out for Mark like a gentleman. “Thank you,” Mark smiled up at him before watching Yuta walk to the opposite side of the table. The waitress stood somewhere near their table, and as Yuta walked past her, she winked suggestively towards his direction, which Yuta easily ignored but Mark couldn’t. He bit the insides of his mouth as he looked away, pretending not to be affected by her actions. Mark didn’t feel jealous, because he had no reason to. But he felt disrespected, and it was hurting him internally.

“And um-” she skillfully tucked her hair behind her ears and bit her bright red lips. “Here’s the menu.” As she placed two menus on the table, one on each side, she slid a piece of folded paper on top of the menu cover and gave him a hopeful look. Mark watched the piece of paper and licked his lips nervously. He sat stiffly and shifted uncomfortably in his seats, fiddling with the menu on the table. That was the breaking point for Yuta.

He shook his head as he rolled his eyes rather sassily. Without sparing her another look he dropped the piece of paper into the glass candle cup, setting the whole paper in flame. The glowing embers leaped, illuminating the two boys’ faces momentarily. The fire soon died down into its original bud of orange and the paper burnt into black and gray ashes scattered around the pale white wax. Mark and the waitress could only watch with their mouths agape, clearly not expecting Yuta to do _that._

“If it’s not too much to ask,” Yuta flickered his cold hard eyes from the candle back to the waitress who was now watching him with tears brimming in her eyes. The older male tilted his head and gave her the best sarcastic smile he could conjure. “May I have someone else to serve us?”

“You-you didn’t have to do that!” She yelled out pointing at Yuta, clearly humiliated. Angry tears threatening to fall from her smokey eyes. “You could’ve rejected me in a less...less harsh way! You barbaric, inhumane and monstrous bastard!”

Yuta sniggered at her remarks. Well, it sounded...educated and creative, but honestly? He had heard far worse vulgar and crude words being thrown on him. What she said was barely a child’s play. But Mark...he was _dead angry._ He wasn’t someone aggressive. But this? This was over the line for him. “He’s my boyfriend,” Mark gritted out, his hands clenching tight on the hem of Lucas’s hoodie. “Apologize to him for the insults.”

Her face tightened to a grimace before screeching out a sharp, ear-piercing “Well, I’m sorry!” before stomping off. But before she could go far, Yuta called for her. 

“Hey wait! I think you’re forgetting something!”

Mark raised his eyebrows as he stared at Yuta, who had a little mischievous smirk hanging loosely on his lips.

She stopped in her tracks and whipped her head back sulkily. “What?” She spat.

“Well, you see. This cutie over here is my boyfriend,” Yuta looked at Mark with a sweet, genuine smile, before he let it fall to something more dark and cynical as he flickered his eyes to look back at her. “Don’t you think you owe him an apology too?”

Mark grabbed onto Yuta’s hand and frowned as he shook his head nervously. “Hyung, don’t!” The poor girl clearly had been humiliated from inside out with how Yuta had talked down to her. To Mark, she didn’t need any more shaming or embarrassment. But Yuta didn’t share the same sentiments.

“So-sorry!” She screeched before stomping to the back of the restaurant bawling in shame and mortification. The corner of her mascara and eyeshadow smudging uglily from all her eyes rubbing. Mark squeezed Yuta’s hand and smiled apologetically towards him.

“I’m really sorry that our date has to start like that. I should’ve done my research before things like this could happen,” Mark scrunched his nose cutely, which Yuta can’t help but pinch his nose affectionately. 

“Nah it’s all cool,” The older male smiled playfully. “How else could I have seen my boyfriend being jealous of someone’s bad flirting.”

Mark got defensive. “I’m not jealous, who said I’m jealous?! I’m just-”

“You’re just?” Yuta eyed him teasingly.

“I’m just-” Mark looked at Yuta and burst out into laughter. Yuta let out a carefree chuckle, himself, but quickly got serious when another man approached their table. He sat up straighter as he eyed him suspiciously. The approaching male is somewhere in between Yuta and Mark’s age. His peachy-pink hair stood out from the rest of the people. And just based on the color of his hair alone, Yuta could deduce he did not pose any threat towards him despite his muscular build and perfect height. The older male relaxed back into his seat, but...a nagging feeling pursuit, and Yuta couldn’t quite pinpoint _what_ it was.

The young waiter smiled, his dimples clearly visible and his fair skin glinted under the soft, cozy light of the cafe. “Hey, I learned about the commotion with our newly hired waitress and I just want to apologize on her behalf. We’re really sorry that that had happened,” he bowed slightly. “If it’s possible, I’ll be here to take your order?”

Mark raised his eyebrows at his deep husky voice and marveled at him. “Woah, Hyung! You looked like an actor!”

The waiter chuckled to himself, his dimples deepened. “Oh- Thank you!”

Yuta frowned. Something about those pairs of light steely brown eyes and charismatic smile look oddly familiar.

“I’ll have Mixed fruit waffles and hot chocolate please!” Mark pointed excitedly to the options in the menu before looking at Yuta, who was supposed to order after him.

“Pancake souffle and Ice-Americano,” Yuta ordered, his voice was light but his face showed no expression.

“Alright, got it. One Mixed fruit waffles, one Pancake souffle, one Ice-Americano, and one hot chocolate,” The waiter repeated as he stared at the little notepad in his hand. Then he went over to collect the menus off the table. “Give us a moment, your orders will be served.”

As the waiter bent down to clear and set the table, Yuta saw his name tag clearly. And everything clicked. “Jung JaeHyun”.

* * *

“This is so good, let’s come again the next time!” Mark babbled as he stuffed the remaining waffles into his mouth. As if he was bewitched, Yuta sat across his with his chin rested on his propped-up arm. He quietly took in his cheekbones, full lips, and caramel skin. On top of the very delicious souffle pancakes he just finished, all he wanted to do was to eat him up.

“Mmhmm,” Yuta mumbled back half-heartedly as he toyed with his own cup of drinks watching him. A flickered pink hair caught the corner of his eyes and he looked up from the younger male to the waiter serving some other table. Yuta waved him over.

The waiter, Jaehyun, walked over with a polite smile. “Hello, how may I help you?”

“I’ll like to get the bill, please,” Yuta replied with a small grin. Mark quickly reached for his wallet but Yuta still managed to beat him to it by slapping a stack of cash onto the bill folder before passing it to Jaehyun.

The waiter’s eyes widened a little before returning the bill folder to Yuta. “Wait, that’s too much-”

“Keep the change. It’s your tip,” Yuta replied coolly before standing up from his seats. “Let’s go, Mark.”

Mark dusted his hands before jumping to his feet. “Thanks, Hyung! Food is really good!”

The couple stepped out of the store feeling content and happy with their meal despite the hitch at the beginning. Yuta pulled Mark closer by his waist and the latter happily leaned into his warmth.

“Where are we going next, Mark?” Yuta raised a hand to brush his hair backward. They had only been out for a while but the sun was already starting to get glaring. Mark was on his phone checking out the schedule he had planned for the day.

Mark licked his lips before grinning mysteriously. ”You don’t need to drive, we’ll walk there.”

* * *

Mark had been expertly walking in and out of alleyways, all the while dragging Yuta behind him by his hands. They went past many shops, dessert shops, hairdressing stores, clothes stores...you name it. Each time Yuta assumed one store to be their destination, Mark had dragged him away. Yuta licked his lips nervously as he checked his phone quietly to make sure he still had his men following him. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he noticed that his men had been somewhere near, just up different alleyways.

Mark stopped in front of a studio-looking place deep in an alley and beamed up at Yuta. “We’re here!” He then dug out a pair of keys from his back pocket and jiggled them cutely. Yuta tilted his head quizzically.

“What…? Where are we?”

“You’ll see!” Mark plunged the keys into the keyholes and unlocked the door with a click. It was a studio room with Scandinavian design - most of the furniture was in natural colors, and it was both refreshing and cozy. Weird combination especially for a rented studio set in the middle of nowhere in a supposedly buzzing shopping area.

A huge white couch sat lazily at the back of the room, and a pale wooden table full of art supplies stood in the middle of the room. There was a TV on the table and a mini pantry at the corner of the room and various bean bags scattered around the wooden tiled floor.

“Woah, what’s this?” Yuta eyed the place with great interest. Upon stepping into the room, he also noticed a few easels at the other blind corner of the room. Yuta picked up one of the painting tubes and inspected it. “Painting?”

“Yup! This is a painting studio,” Mark explained, excitement and happiness evident in his voice. “I noticed a few paintings in your room. I thought you’ll enjoy some time off for some painting activities.”

In amongst all of his dark and painful past, in amongst all of his controversial and sometimes unethical and inhumane actions, in amongst all of his conflicts and fights with all of those in the over and underground, amongst all of his scars and his self-loathings...there was Mark. Who not only brightened up his darkness with his sunshine personality, but he also managed to look beyond all of those and love him for who he was...even if he was unable to do that to himself…

A solemn tear fell down Yuta’s cheek as he pulled Mark into a tight embrace. His body looked calm compared to how tangled his mind was. “Thank you, Mark,” he whispered as Mark rubbed soothing circles into Yuta’s back.

* * *

Mark was crouching in one corner of the room with a bean bag doing his painting on an extremely low adjusted easel, while Yuta sat on the wooden chair with his canvas propped up on the wooden easel. Mark was engrossed in his own painting and hadn’t realized that Yuta had been staring at him for a while.

“Mark, what are you painting?” Yuta cracked his knuckles and took a long, comfortable stretch. He was halfway done with his painting and he needed to let the base dry before getting another coat of colors up so he arranged his palette, tubes, and brushes neatly before casting Mark a look. The younger male had all of the art supplies scattered messily around him and his sitting posture would guarantee him a back sore.

Mark shook his head, not lifting it up to look at Yuta. The older male wiped his hand clean before repeating the question back to Mark again.

“Nothing…” Mark mumbled half-heartedly, seemingly pretty adamant about keeping his masterpiece a secret. Yuta strode towards him with his brows drawn together. Mark quickly tilted his easel away, so his painting faced the wall so it was out of Yuta’s sight and glared at the older man with a pair of (totally non-) threatening eyes. 

Yuta put up both of his hands defensively, “alright, alright, I won’t look. But can you at least tell me what you’re painting? I’m curious.”

Mark scrunched his nose up and shook his head. “Not telling ya.’”

Yuta’s eyes flickered to Mark’s lips before he smiled mischievously. He placed two hands on Mark's shoulders and pushed him against the white plaster wall. “Hyung, Hyung, Hyung, what are you doing,” Mark repeated as his eyes darted around the room and back at Yuta. He felt his own breaking quickened as Yuta leaned in a little bit more.

“Are you gonna tell me?” Yuta stared at Mark’s lips sensually. Mark’s heart pounded as he gulped down nervously.

“Bu-but it’s a secret…” Mark didn’t get to finish his sentence before Yuta’s lips brushed his. Not innocently, like a tease but hot, fiery, passionate, and demanding. Mark wanted to pull away before he lost himself but he can’t seem to…In this minty moment, Mark’s senses have been seduced and he can no longer think straight. “Mark” Yuta whispered slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. Mark scrunched his nose before smiling, his heart fluttering at Yuta’s low raspy voice as he clasped his hands on either side of Yuta’s face. In a moment, Mark pressed his lips against Yuta's, felt Yuta’s body loosen and arms touch Mark’s shoulders. Yuta chuckled lightly before gaining dominance and pushing Mark further down into the soft bean bag, "It's payback." And then Mark felt his heart skip a beat. Yuta supported himself with one arm and another reaching out to grab hold of Mark’s chin and pulling it closer to his lips. For that single moment, time stopped. They didn’t care about the unfinished paintings around them, in fact, they don't even notice them. Then they hovered right there, quite soundless for so long, simply feeling each other's presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is calling me sad and lonely in 10 languages but am I complaining (⇀‸↼‶) 
> 
> *chants* I am a Mafia!AU writer. I am a Mafia!AU writer. I am a Mafia!AU writer. I am a Mafia!AU writer.
> 
> This chapter...is...so...sweet...I'm in so much pain _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_ 
> 
> ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭ Alrighty, anyway, ya'll already know the drill. Have a good week ahead and leave me some comments!! (´,,•ω•,,)♡ Love you all.
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	15. THE SPIDER GROUP

5:30 pm. Yuta placed his paintbrush back into the paintbrush cup and inspected his own painting carefully. He had painted silhouettes of two men sitting under wisteria trees under the starry night sky, the sort that brings sweet romantic thoughts to passing daydreams. It was inspired by the two of them, and his favorite place in the world -- the headquarters of the Nakamoto manor back in Osaka, Japan. Yuta tapped the corner of the painting to check the dryness of the painting before looking up to Mark, who had already fallen asleep waiting for his own oil painting to dry.

The afternoon had been well spent. Mark had ordered pizza, fried chicken, and some other dishes and drinks. Even when Yuta offered to pay for the meal, Mark easily rejected and paid for the meal with his own cash. The rented studio and the meal had not been affordable for Mark, Yuta knew that much. But for the face and pride of Mark, Yuta happily received all of them with a grateful heart.

The sight of Mark sinking peacefully into the huge pastel beige bean bag brought a genuine smile to Yuta. He stood up and stretched his sore limbs before noticing his phone vibrating in his back pocket. Yuta clucked his tongue with a heavy frown as he fished his handphone out. _Well, that can’t be good news._

“Seven gang members approaching the alley you’re in. Haven’t been able to check their identities, but seem like some local hooligans who believed they run the town,” Yuta read the message from his _Wakagashira_ quietly and almost laughed out loud at the way he phrased it. But he also can’t help but clenched his jaw in annoyance.

His phone buzzed again and he lifted it up. “They’re approaching your art studio. Don’t open the door, we’ll deal with it from outside.” Well, that’s easy for Yuta. His main concern was Mark and was always Mark. As long as he can keep him safe, he’s willing to do anything. He quietly walked towards Mark and sat down beside him. Knowing Mark not wanting him to look at his painting, he simply tilted the easel away from his sight.

The hooligans appeared a lot earlier than Yuta had predicted. The sudden pounding on the door made Mark jump awake from his slumber. “Oh my God, what’s going on,” Mark muttered with shock evident in his sleepy eyes, he looked around the room, scared as hell. Seeing Yuta and feeling his warmth close beside him made him relaxed a little.

“Open up! Open up!” A gruff voice boomed from outside the studio, echoing through the four walls of the room. Mark glanced at Yuta with eyes as big as saucers plates. “If you don’t open the door in five minutes we’ll break into the studio!”

“Who are- what’s going on?” Mark asked a rhetorical question as he struggled to climb up, staggering a little, clearly in a daze. He wanted to see who’s outside the door. But before he could make it halfway up, Yuta pulled him back down onto the bean bag. Mark eyed him weirdly but Yuta simply shrugged.

“Those are just local thugs, my men will take care of them,” Yuta reached a gentle hand out to play with Mark’s hair as he answered nonchalantly, clearly unbothered by the threat they just made.

The pounding of the door happened once again, and Mark jumped from surprised. This time, there were more people yelling profanities and threats. “Should we-should we call the police?” Mark fiddled with Yuta’s sleeves as he frowned upon the thin door that looked like it could break down any given moment from all of their hammering and punching. Yuta shook his head and patted Mark’s back reassuringly.

“My men will take care of them, don’t worry baby.”

Before the thugs could land their fists against the door one more time, a rush of footsteps sounded. “There are more people out there!” The younger male exclaimed as he stared at the door rigidly. 

Before Yuta could assure him again, an unnaturally loud commotion followed right after, which Mark grabbed ahold of Yuta and pulling him close to him. “Hyung!” He whisper-screamed.

“Fuck! Let go of me!”

“What the fuck, who are y- Arghhh!”

“Fuck off! What the fuck!”

Various screams and yells could be heard outside the studio. The thugs had already been apprehended by Yuta’s men. Mark let out a breath he never noticed he was holding and shot Yuta a relieved smile. Yuta smiled back at him as he held Mark’s hand between his and gave it a warm rub. The commotions stopped and the pristine silence took over once again, occasionally some muffling scream and a few shuffling and footsteps could be heard, but other than that, it was mostly silent.

“Who are you and why are you here?” A familiar, well-articulated voice could be heard speaking outside the room. Mark’s head perked up with interest.

“Natsuki-Hyung?” Mark looked over to Yuta for confirmation and the older male nodded quietly.

“Fuck you! Let me go!” One of the thugs bellowed. And then he could be heard being kicked to the ground with a loud, almost uncomfortably painful thud. Mark flinched.

“I’ll ask you one more chance to answer my question before you and all your comrades die tonight,” Natsuki’s voice was cold and demanding, and all too unfamiliar and distant from the kind Natsuki Mak could remember. Mark could make out the sound of Natsuki clocking his gun and his grip on Yuta’s hand tightened. “Who are you, who do you work for, and why are you here.”

“The-The Spider group!” One of the hooligans yelled out. Yuta felt his heart tightened like a painful squeeze. Unease blossomed from within him; as brilliantly as the pale, white hand of Mark that he now held with quivering hands. “We were paid by The Spider group! Please don’t kill us!”

Yuta dropped Mark’s hand and his face paled gravely. “I’m-I’m going to go out for a while,” Yuta breathed out as he avoided Mark’s questioning and concerned look. “Stay here.”

“Hyung, I’ll go with y-”

“No,” Yuta gave him a stern look before he pressed his lips firmly together. “Stay here.”

Yuta rose to his feet and strode towards the exit, Mark watching him all the while from the back, worriedly. He didn’t forget to close the door behind him.

* * *

Bitterly cold and humid - such an enchanting combination. Yuta flexed his arms and shoulders before jabbing his thumb towards the next alley. He knew how thin the walls and door were, and he didn’t want Mark to overhear what he wanted to say or _do._

His _Shategashira_ bowed before stationing outside the studio, guarding Mark. Yuta nodded towards them before shooting the seven men a look, now arms tied up and their mouths taped shut, kneeling on the floor and looking up at him, paralyzed to the spot, the menacing aura of Yuta holding them in a tightening grip.

His men moved the seven men into the next alley, which Yuta stood hovering over them. His aura alone was enough to let them know he was the one in charge, despite dressing in a white hoodie, ripped jeans, and sneakers. Natsuki walked over and draped his own jacket over Yuta’s shoulder and gave him the gun he clocked. “Young Master, this is the seven men that we caught.”

Yuta squatted down in front of them and studied them with his leveled gaze. Korean. Middle age. No visible gang tattoo. “Do they have any spider tattoos on them?” Yuta had asked that in Japanese, directing the question to Natsuki who stood protectively behind him.

His _Wakagashira_ shook his head. “No. But it seems like they were hired by _Tsuchigumo_.”

Yuta snapped his head back to them, his eyes narrowed. “So who are you and why are you hired by them?” His face turned dark as he. “Lie to me and you die, am I clear?”

The seven men nodded collectively, some of them swallowed deeply in fear. Yuta looked at the first guy and gestured him to speak up. With a shaky voice, he replied, “We were looking for some job for fast-fast cash,” He swallowed nervously before speaking again. “There was a man with a huge spider tattoo asked us if we want to work for him, and ...and…”

“And what?” Yuta asked sharply. Though if you looked at his hands, the shaking would have been a dead giveaway that he was in deep fear.

“And he would pay us a hefty amount of money,” The man looked at the rest of the six, before facing Yuta. His pupils vibrating.

Yuta frowned. A wave of cold wind embalmed him as the hairs rose on the back of his neck and his mouth ran dry. “What did he asked you to do?”

The seven men ducked their heads. “They asked...they asked us to...to…”

Rage overtook him before Yuta rammed the gun against his temple. “Speak.”

“They want us to kill the young boy and gave you the letter!” The man was screaming his lungs out. He pointed his chin to the white letter poking out from his black coat. Yuta snatched the letter out, his gun still on the temple of the hooligan. 

Yuta stood for a couple of seconds, the white letter with the black spider insignia in between his fingers, feeling his stomach churned, his eyes closed. He could no longer control his hands; they were shaking in an odd trembling rhythm.

“Yuta don't-” Natsuki snatched the paper out from Yuta’s grasp and tried to put a hand over his shoulder to calm him down. Yuta staggered away and pushed the gun into Natsuki’s hand.

“I’m going to go find Mark,” His heart was throbbing in his ears, loud and irregular, but Yuta barely heard it, for his mind was clouded with fear. “Take care of them.”

Yuta swallowed down his frustration, he strode back to the studio. He ran his hand down his hair twice and straightened his clothes. As frightened, angry, and upset he was, he didn’t want the younger male to worry over him. He made sure he kept his frustration in check before opening the door.

“Hyung, are you alright?” Mark asked almost immediately as Yuta stepped through the door. The younger male had been pacing back and forth in the room as soon as Yuta left, and he breathed out a sigh of relief seeing Yuta in one piece.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Yuta reached a hand up to stroke the back of Mark’s head before he pulled the younger male close for a short kiss on the lips. “Let’s go, Mark. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

Natsuki placed a bottle of water beside Yuta and patted his back. Yuta had been fixing his tie for the past five minutes but he can’t seem to get them straight. And one of the biggest reasons could be because of his shaking hands. But he refused to ask for help. Because asking for help would have meant that he has any weakness. And he refused to show anyone that.

“Yuta, stop,” Natsuki ordered firmly, eyes not leaving Yuta’s hands. He sighed deeply and pulled Yuta to face him. “I’ll fix it for you. Drink some water, calm yourself down.”

Natsuki proceeded to fix Yuta’s tie till they look all straight and neat, and Yuta took a big gulp of water. “Hyung,” Yuta called out to Natsuki, his own pupils dilating in fear.

“Yes, Yuta?” Natsuki’s voice softened as he watched him. The _Tsuchigumo_ group had been Yuta’s biggest fear. Even if Yuta had grown to possess more wealth and power, the phobia never left him. Natsuki knew, that no matter how much Yuta had grown, the seed of fear and anxiety the _Tsuchigumo_ had planted in him had never got away. Instead, they grow and bloom in places Yuta never knew, and now, they were to overpower his confidence and his thoughts. 

“I’m...I’m afraid,” Yuta finally admitted. The fear sat quietly, eroding the person he was born to be. A great sob escaped him, and he covered his face with shaking hands. “When they said they were ordered to kill Mark, in my terrified mind every breath of wind was as loud as a blood-curdling scream. I was so afraid.”

Natsuki watched Yuta slid down the door, bringing his knees up to his chest. And he walked over and gave him a hug that engulfed his small, tired frame. “We’ll get through this, Yuta. Mark will be safe.”

“Hyung, I’m- I’m,” Yuta choked a little. “I’m really so afraid of losing him. What should I do?”

“We’ll get through this together. With Mark safe and sound, I promise.”

* * *

There was a tension in the air, like static. It was almost brick-thick when Yuta strolled into the room filled with the four biggest clan leaders next to the Nakamoto clan. Nobody said a word as their predator-like eyes were all set on Yuta, who carried himself with the utmost confidence.

“Good evening, Sir. Hanae, Sir. Odake, Sir. Teratsuji and Sr. Kawamura,” Yuta bowed formally to the four clan leaders, smiling charismatically to each of them. “It is my utmost honor to have you here in Korea with me.”

The leaders grunted or nodded back in acknowledgment of Yuta’s presence as he took a seat at the head of the table. Yuta already knew beforehand how hard it was going to be to try to convince the four of them who were as stubborn mules.

The Nakamoto family had always been providing the rest of them with the most basic to the most superior firearms, but needing them to agree to support him with the man or military power seemed a little too overambitious. 

“If it was your father that was asking for this, I would’ve considered it,” The leader of the Hanae clan sneered as he sipped his hot tea a little too loudly. “You’re too young and too inexperienced.”

Mr. Teratsuji leaned back onto his chair and crossed his legs arrogantly. “I don’t owe the Nakamoto clan anything.” Yuta bowed to both of them in acknowledgment, his irritation flared.

“Yuta, what do you not understand?” Mr. Odake finally spoke up. Yuta and the four others wired their heads to look at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The _Tsuchigumo_ group had chosen to buy over two small clans, the Shimura clan, and the Igarashi Clan, why did you think they did that?” Mr. Odake leaned forward and propped both of his elbows on the desk as he stared brazenly into Yuta’s eyes. “And why did you think the _Tsuchigumo_ group bothered to buy over the congressmen, politicians, businessmen, and moguls of Korea?”

Yuta’s breath became erratic as their eyes locked in a shared understanding. Yuta didn’t need him to say it out to know what he was thinking, but Sir. Odake said it out loud anyway.

“It’s _personal vendetta.”_

Yuta’s breathing became erratic, deep, then shallow. He fought it. He fought the feeling as his body writhed to be free or shut down entirely.

“It’s personal vendetta and he seeks to bring down the Nakamoto Clan _completely.”_

* * *

  
  


Mark glared at Lucas who shrugged innocently back at him. “What? Don’t look at me like that,” Lucas mumbled defensively. “You can always call him, you know?”

One week ago, after Yuta sent Mark home, without even getting dinner at the restaurant that Mark had booked for the both of them, they had once again fallen back into silence. What’s worse was that they had been quiet on their way back. Yuta hadn’t started any conversation and Mark was too nervous to speak. In the end, Yuta drove him back to school and walked him back to the lobby. “Stay good, stay healthy, remember to have dinner with Lucas,” Yuta nagged him quietly as they walked side by side. Mark glanced up at him anxiously.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to have dinner with me?” Mark asked once again.

Yuta pressed his lips into a thin line before looking away with a perplexed expression. “Yea, sorry it ended this way…” He sighed as he reached out to hold Mark’s hand between his. “I’ll make up to you soon, I promise.”

Mark slammed his body down on Lucas’s mattress, and Lucas had to leap out of the way in time before Mark could attack him with his body. “You think I don’t know that?” Mark grumbled angrily as he punched Lucas on the forearm lightly. “I just feel like...he didn’t want to talk to me.”

Lucas frowned at him. “You guys are at that stage where you can talk things out. I don’t know why you’re acting like you guys are at the beginning of the relationship?”

Mark bit his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. migraine threatening at the back of his head. How was he ever going to tell Lucas that his relationship with Yuta went a lot more different than a lot of other different couples? That his boyfriend exists in both of them over and the underground, and that he’s the young master of a transnational organized crime syndicate. “It’s a lot more complicated than that…” He murmured. Lucas looked at him sympathetically.

“Take a nap, it’ll help,” Lucas suggested. “We’ll get good food for dinner.”

* * *

It had been almost three years since Yuta stepped into the indoor training ground. Ever since he attended university, he had focused on dancing completely. Though his combat skills still reigned over the majority of the people, he knew his skills had been regressing.

“I brought ice-cream,” Yuta sighed dramatically as he threw the plastic bag down. “I’m the freaking young master of this family and yet both of you don’t treat me like one.”

Shotaro unwrapped the wrist wrap as he ran towards Yuta, his eyes curled into cute eye smiles. “Thanks, Hyung, I’ll eat it well.”

Natsuki stretched from afar and shook his head dramatically back to Yuta. After a few minutes, he strolled towards the two that were already seated right in the middle of the training hall. Shotaro in a black fitness tanktop and Yuta in a white T-shirt. “What’d you get for me?”

“Chocolate,” Yuta answered simply before flinging the bag at him, which the older male caught it skillfully.

“Thanks.” Natsuki stared at Shotaro for a second before pressing his ice-cold packet of ice-cream against his exposed nape, eliciting an outcry from him.

“Hyung! Stop!” Shotaro rubbed his nape with a grimace. “Yuta-Hyung! He’s still bullying me!”

Yuta shook his head at their immaturity and sighed quietly as he ate another mouth of his melting ice-cream. “Childish.”

“Hey, even if your status is higher than mine I’m still older than you,” Natsuki glared down at Yuta, which Yuta purposefully ignored him to further annoy him.

The three of them got into a short playfight before Shotaro lied down on the gym mats tiredly with the ice-cream stick in between his lips. “ _Aniki,_ ” Shotaro called out quietly, the two males looked at him questioningly. “Remember what I promised during my 16th birthday?”

Natsuki leaned backward with one of his arm propping him up and he nodded with a lazy grin. “Yeap, it was hard to forget.”

Shotaro took a deep breath in and it took him a moment before he breathed out. “My offer still stands.”

“No,” Yuta interjected almost too quickly. 

“Hyung I-”

“No.” Yuta’s head was a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing his mind into blackness. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let the silence take over for a moment.

“Survive, Shotaro. Survive." Yuta whispered loud enough just for the two of them to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be right back bringing Shotaro home ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
> 
> Comment more, please (¬Φ_Φ)¬ literally got killed by academics
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	16. BRIGHT YELLOW 'KM' INSIGNIA

Lucas poked Mark, who was wrapped completely in his blanket, almost like a burrito. An outsider or a stranger would never be able to know that that was Mark if not for his brown-golden hair sticking out from the top of the blanket. “Breakfast,” Lucas announced loudly as he poked Mark one more time. 

“I’m not going,” There was a long pause before Mark groaned. “Go without me, I’m not hungry.”

Lucas frowned and crossed his arms. It’s been almost two weeks since Mark had last seen or last talked to Yuta, and he had been grumpy and angsty that his boyfriend had chosen to go...silent and not text him back since then. Mark had been calling to what seemed like an empty number, and Yuta had not even opened or replied to any of his messages, he was getting annoyed. Why was he always the one reaching out? Why can’t Yuta take initiative for once? It’s not like he doesn’t know what and who Yuta was, and how demanding his job could be, but that doesn’t stop Mark from being extremely upset.

“C’mon, Mark, you barely ate last night.” Lucas tried again. “You can’t go on like this.”

Mark buried himself deeper into the blanket, obviously throwing a tantrum and also subtly asking Lucas to leave him alone. Lucas sighed loudly purposefully before walking to the door. “Fine, fine.” His thick brows knitted together before a plan formed in his head.

* * *

Lucas slid into his seats in the school canteen located a few blocks down his dorm and clasped his hands in glee with just the amount of food Renjun had taken (and bargained) from the canteen lady for the three of them. He had actually taken portions more than five but Mark and Shotaro weren’t joining them for breakfast...so more for Lucas.

“He’s still holed up in his room?” Chenle asked as he shoved a spoon full of rice into his mouth and Renjun openly shot him a disgusted look. Lucas hummed in response without looking up at them. He shoved a bigger spoon of food and Renjun gaped at him.

“Anyway, where’s Shotaro? ” Renjun moved the plates of shared dishes closer to Lucas. “He’s literally here only when Mark’s here.”

“Thanks,” Lucas muttered as he grabbed a chopstick full of meat into his bowl. “I don’t know, I saw him two days ago.”

“Where?” Chenle asked half-heartedly.

“Coming back to school,” Lucas replied. “Past midnight.”

Renjun placed his utensils down and leaned towards Lucas who was sitting directly across him. “Did you ask him where he went?”

Lucas nodded obediently. “He said he went out to meet some seniors.”

Renjun and Chenle simply nodded and continued to eat their food. Lucas took a bite of the omelet, cheesy with dark leafy greens. He smiled, "Guys, that's so good, I’m bringing some back for Mark.”

* * *

Yuta gave himself another look in the mirror and scrunched his nose up. Natsuki caught that from behind him and patted his back assuringly. “You look fine, he’ll like your new hairstyle.”

Yuta nodded and ruffled his now short hair lightly. “You think so?” He asked quietly. Yuta had just cut his hair shorter and dyed it dark blue, and for some reason, his hair matched perfectly with the pink cherry blossom and purple wisteria trees withering outside of his windows from the arriving winter. He extremely loved how it looked but he couldn’t help but wondered what Mark thought of his new hairstyle. “What do you think dad would say though?”

Natsuki almost snorted. But he kept his cool and made a face at Yuta from the back through the mirror. “When did you ever care what Sir Nakamoto said about your hairstyles?”

Yuta glared back at him through the mirror before reaching behind him to land a hard playful smack on Natsuki’s arm. The older male laughed out loud before returning back to what he was originally doing. After a moment of comfortable silence between both of them, Yuta looked at his phone that was lying on the bed. “Did Shotaro say anything?”

“Hm, I wondered what he said other than the fact that someone had gone completely MIA on their boyfriend and now said boyfriend was all upset and disheartened,” Natsuki shrugged and pretended stoicism. “I don’t know, you tell me what he could've said.”

Yuta grabbed the water bottle in front of him rather aggressively and downed almost half of the content in the bottle. As it turned out, you can't drink the silence away and so Yuta sat there with a clenched fist as his edge of irritation for his own selfishness and stupidity had returned.

Natsuki stuffed the gun into his holster and walked towards the study room door. “If you’re done being upset with yourself, we can get ready to leave.” He then shot Yuta an empathized glance who was still sitting alone at the table with a pinched expression and he sighed inwardly to himself. “If it’s any of a consolation, we’re going back to Korea right after we visit your dad.”

Each time the regrets reemerged he would diligently analyze them again, hoping that this time his mind would be satisfied with his self professed remorse, but it never was. Like an unforgiving specter, he knew it would be back to haunt him all over again.

* * *

Apparently, the omelet was not the only thing he brought back to the room. Because now there were two dark, tall figures looming over Mark’s sleeping figure. Lucas shot the taller male a look and pointed at Mark. “Hyung, that’s just how he had been for the past few days.”

Johnny jumped onto Mark’s mattress, held onto his shoulder, and hoisted him up to a sitting position. Mark looked like he hadn’t been sleeping for days despite staying in bed most of the time for the past few days. “Hey, Mark, wake up,” Johnny said playfully but his voice was gentle and concerned. “You, good?”

Mark forced out a smile. “Oh, hey, Johnny-Hyung.”

“You alright?” Johnny asked again as he slowly removed and unwrapped the blanket from him. “You look awful.”

Mark groaned as the strong sunlight hit his face and he squinted away from the window before burying his face into Johnny’s shoulder. “I feel awful,” he replied tiredly as Johnny stroked his neck comfortingly.

“You know how Yuta is,” Johnny attempted to comfort him. “He’s always just...mysterious...y’know.”

Mark didn't reply to him but he bobbed his head to indicate that he agreed. Johnny looked at Lucas who had been walking around the room putting away his laundry and he noticed a shiny white and black dress shirt with a low neck cut hanging in his wardrobe, one of those weird clothes that only Lucas could pull off. _Wow, that shirt is definitely suitable for clu-_ Johnny smiled and patted Mark’s back repeatedly.

“Hey Mark and Lucas,” The two younger boys raised their heads to look at him with curiosity in their eyes. “Wanna go clubbing tomorrow night? We have a friend gathering tonight and one of our classmates is holding a party in the club in Gangnam tomorrow.”

Both of them acted like Johnny had said something insane because Mark was staring at him without blinking, while Lucas’s huge puppy eyes got wider. “Clubbing?” Mark asked with a low voice, his voice broke a little.

“Yeap! They’re really fun people. Sicheng and Ten would be there too,” Johnny shrugged nonchalantly as he pushed his hair back cooly. “I can drive you two if you guys are down.”

Mark chewed on his lips for a bit as he eyed Lucas, who had the exact same incredulous expression plastered over his face. “Uh…”

“Hey come on, both of you!” Johnny laughed a little as he smacked Mark across the arm. “It’s the school sem break and you guys deserve this little party. There are free food, alcohol, and fun games to play!”

Lucas smiled giddily as he imagined the number of fun things he could do and the scrumptious meals he could eat without needing to pay, but Mark was still unsure as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll...pass…” He mumbled. “I don’t feel comfortable going without notifying Yuta-Hyung…”

“Mark!” Lucas and Johnny yelled out simultaneously, and he could only watch them with reluctance.

Johnny sighed and grabbed his shoulder firmly, forcing Mark to look at him. “Alright how ‘bout this. You go to the club with me, and I’ll find ways to tell him,” Johnny persuaded. “Also, how could I have fun knowing that my socially awkward little bro is suffering by himself in the room?”

Mark grimaced a little as he pondered by himself. Then, after a minute or two, he finally gave in to the peer pressure of the two giants, knowing that they were meaning well. “Fine, fine,” Mark sighed with a small smile. “I’ll go but under one condition.”

Johnny and Lucas smiled at that and eyed him with full expectant.

“I’m leaving the moment I feel uncomfortable.”

* * *

The landscape was every vivid color, every one of them as fresh as a new painting straight from the Nakamoto manor. The brilliant orange banished every dark thought and the sky lifted the eye in a way that brought the guards and men to admire the strands of drifting white clouds. The trees were deep with late autumn foliage and the flowers rioted in the jubilant way that only the most divine of blooms can. Osaka was almost the same as how Yuta last left it, but this time, like every other time, felt so different.

It was as if even the scenery was mocking the unease and fear blossoming within the darkness in him. Yuta tilted his head back so he could rest his head on the headrest and he closed his eyes to focus on the engine that was barely audible.

The black car traveled for almost an hour from the Nakamoto Manor before driving up the mountain path that led them to yet another hidden premise owned by the Nakamoto Group. This place that sat on top of the mountain was where Yuta had trained since he was younger, together with Natsuki and Shotaro. He had lived a good ten years in this premises and it definitely still held onto its soaring beauty, except each time he came back, it brought back all the bittersweet memories he forged in this place. 

“Let’s go, Yuta,” Natsuki muttered softly as he opened the car door. Yuta then opened his eyes and took his time to adjust his eyes to the brightness before stepping out.

Compared to the Nakamoto manor in the headquarters in Osaka and Seoul, the Nakamoto training premises had a livelier and welcoming aura. Most of the design and styles stayed the same, but in this place, you could _actually_ hear soldiers training in the practice fields and higher ranked guards could be seen having their monthly training sessions in the combat gym. It’s no wonder why his dad had chosen this place to be convalescent.

He stood atop the rocky surface and stretched his sore body. Clouds swirled around him in an icy greeting and snow coated the mountain top. Yuta’s honey-brown eyes opened wide as he stared off into the distance. This place, it was still so beautiful.

Natsuki walked back from retrieving the bouquet of sunflowers from the trunk and passed it to Yuta. “Here you go, Young Master” He spoke with a formal bow before motioning Yuta to the stoned stairwell that led to the grand wood and stone structure where the clan leader now resided in. Yuta took the flower and strode forward, the lines of men formed naturally behind him as they followed closely behind him.

* * *

“Sir Nakamoto,” The maid could be heard speaking from inside the room. “The young Master has arrived.”

After a moment of silence, the maid came back out and bowed to Yuta. “Good morning, Young Master,” Her voice was gentle and very motherly, and it seemed like she had been working for his dad for a while. “Sir Nakamoto is ready to meet you, please follow me inside.”

Yuta nodded and bowed to her before following her into the biggest bedroom of the training premises.

The room was dimly lit with warm, orange light as cool, contrasting daylight spilled into the room, forming a comfortable hue. Sir Nakamoto rested against the golden and black headboard of his huge, grand bed with golden dragons embroidered on the linens.

“Good morning, dad,” Yuta greeted formally with a deep bow, one hand behind his back and another across his tummy.

“Yuta, you’re here,” Sir Nakamoto turned to look at Yuta and the young master straightened up. A huge gentle, yet frail smile spread across his face as he beckoned Yuta to go closer to where he was. “Sit.” He pointed to the chair that sat beside his bedside. Yuta walked over. He pulled the chair over and sat down elegantly.

Yuta studied him for a bit. His demeanor hasn’t fallen; he still held that calm, assertive, formal, and rigid aura, and with the way he moved, it was easy to see where Yuta had gotten the grace and elegance from. He was almost exactly how Yuta had remembered him the last time he left, but the clan leader had clearly become way weaker and frail.

“Dad, sunflowers,” Yuta handed the bouquet to him and Sir Nakamoto placed the flowers on his bedside table and grinned gently at him. “For good health,” Yuta added with a small smile on his face.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to,” Sir Nakamoto sighed tiredly. He reached out a pair of shaky hands to get his black and gold porcelain teacup, but Yuta was slightly faster, and he gently placed the cup in his dad’s hands. The clan leader took a long sip of his tea before Yuta helped him with the teacup again. “Thank you, Yuta. Your hair looks good on you.”

Yuta blinked owlishly at his dad for a while before another smile crept up to his face. “Thank you.” The last time he had it blonde, Sir Nakamoto had commented that they looked too flashy and messy, but he knew how stubborn Yuta was, so he let the matter go eventually. In fact, he had almost never liked any hairstyle Yuta had other than the formal black and brown. It was a nice surprise to know that his dad had found his blue hair nice.

Sir Nakamoto pushed himself up with the help of Yuta and he managed to sit up a little straighter than before. Yuta obediently sat back down and he crossed his legs sophisticatedly as he watched his dad take another long sip from the teacup. It reminded Yuta of the first time he had met Sir Nakamoto.

Back then, he was five, so young, so little. And yet, after 20 years, he sat across the same man who took him in. The same man in the black pressed suit who sat perfectly straight, with an elegant golden round-rimmed glass rested on his nose and his black hair slicked back neatly, but now, his hair had greyed and he wore a comfortable sweater rolled up to his arms. The only things that he hadn’t changed were the golden-rimmed glasses and his elegance.

“What did the doctor say?” Yuta asked quietly as he poured hot water into his dad’s cup. He tried not to breathe but he knew it was impossible. His hands trembled slightly and a few drops of water spilled.

“The doctor came last night,” He answered casually with a gentle and comforting smile. “He said two years.”

Like a budding flower, it started slow and gentle, but it rose to a dread that tore at Yuta’s heart; a tear was forming but he wouldn’t let it fall.

Sir Nakamoto slicked his silver hair back as a habit and pushed his glasses up his nose slightly. “So, I heard from Natsuki about the _Tsuchigumo_?” He asked with a pointed stare. The kind that outstared Yuta and forced the younger male to look away in shame.

Yuta took a deep breath as he formulated the words in his brain. "Dad, the _Tsuchigumo,_ they had been attacking us for the past few months and they even threatened to kill…to kill…” Yuta could barely say the words with his own mouth without sounding weak and fragile to his clan leader.

“Your boyfriend,” Sir Nakamoto finished the sentence for him. Yuta jerked his head up to his father, who was boring his eyes into him. Yuta could only stare back with wide eyes and dropping jaws.

“How- how did you know?” Yuta stuttered out, he rubbed his own neck uncomfortably as he avoided eye contact with his dad. Sir Nakamoto raised his eyebrows at him.

“When did I not know about anything?” He asked rather teasingly. “If the _Tsuchigumo_ can find out about your relationship what makes you think I wouldn’t find out too?”

“So-sorry, I-“

“How is he?”

“…Huh?”

“You said they threatened to kill him,” Sir Nakamoto stared brazenly into Yuta’s eyes but the young master broke it off with his cheeks burning hot. “So, I asked you, how is he?”

“He’s fine. I had Shotaro to guard him, it’s just that…” Yuta clearly felt a pounding heartbeat and an upcoming headache as he attempted to suppress his cool. "I really...I really don't know what I can do, dad. I'm scared. I'm really scared of losing him."

Yuta looked away for a little to hide his reddened eyes, even though he was pretty confident that his dad had already seen them but chose to keep quiet about it.

Sir Nakamoto studied Yuta for a while before he reached down to the last drawer of his bedside table. The clan leader wordlessly pulled out a black jewelry box with a familiar bright yellow “KM” insignia printed on it. Yuta's eyes narrowed and he tilted his head with curiosity. "The Kawamura clan? Why are you-"

Then, a pulse started in his ears, blocking out all other sounds. Yuta tried to steady his breath and struggled to calm the panic. Sir Nakamoto opened the jewelry box with shaky hands and held it towards Yuta. Inside the box revealed a necklace made of an empty bullet shell and a folded piece of paper. "Dad, no. No. No. No. No," terror washed over him, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck as he pushed the box away from him. "Don't give me this, I'm not...I'm not doing it."

Sir Nakamoto stuffed the jewelry box into his hand as his cold gaze fixed on the anxious young man. "The _Tsuchigumo_ is growing into an insane power," He breathed out steadily as he watched Yuta twitched and shook in fear. "They have been making underhand and inhumane trade just to take us down, and **you** know what the extremes are they will go."

"Dad, I-"

"They had bought over the police force in Japan, and soon the politicians and laws too," The clan leader paused for a while. "To rise to the top, they'll have to take us down."

Yuta's heart froze and his stomach turned icy. "But I-"

"Yuta, do it, if this clan has to go one day, I would very much prefer you bring it down with you." Sir Nakamoto commanded. "You're the next leader in line and you'll have to do what you have to do."

His brown eyes reflected the warm lights, and they looked as if the sun had been encased inside of small glass marbles. "Dad, I’m really afraid," Yuta’s voice cracked slightly as he rested his head on his raised knees. Yuta hugged his knees to his chest. “Please don’t make me do this.” Then the smooth spheres appeared to be cracked; the orange sun had been flooded with ocean water and had started to leak; little water droplets streamed down Yuta’s cheeks. This might be the first time in a decade he had cried in front of his dad. He didn’t cry when he was first adopted. He didn’t cry when he first killed someone. He didn’t cry even when the training was harsh, but this, this is insane.

And for the first time since he was first adopted, Sir Nakamoto reached out a feeble hand and stroked the back of Yuta's head comfortingly. He didn't say anything, no. He didn't have to. Because he was aware that Yuta knew, that the war with the _Tsuchigumo_ is inevitable. His loose shoulders shook, his hands hanging low, making no attempt to conceal or even wipe away his own tears.

"Does he knows about your identity?" Sir Nakamoto asked quietly. Yuta nodded his head with his head still resting on his knees without answering him.

"If he chose to stay by you after knowing who you are..." The clan leader paused and pursed his lips. He looked at his own son and his eyes softened. "Then he really loves you. And you should cherish him well."

His head pounded, sharp and heavy. He kept silent as the words of Sir Nakamoto repeated in a loop in his brain. Regret pelted over him like the painful, short drizzle on the mountain top. Each droplet was icy cold and sent shivers down his spine. How he longed to go back and take a different path.

"Yuta, protect him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> （πーπ）I'm late to the update
> 
> But also, I'm really enjoying all your speculations and theories so... (●´□`)♡ do look out for subtle hints
> 
> Leave a comment and I wish that you all have a great week ahead ٩(●ᴗ●)۶
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	17. WELCOME TO THE PARTY!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: MENTION OF RAPE

Mark was actually being productive for once. He had spent the whole day in the bookstore across his school with Shotaro whom he coincidentally met down the corridor.

“Oh! Hyung! Good morning!” Shotaro greeted as he strode down the corridor with a gym towel slung over his shoulder, his hair slightly damped, and a water bottle in his hand. “Where are you going?”

Mark smiled back cheerfully even though the eye bags under his eyes were pretty evident. “Going to the bookstore,” He pointed to the towel and raised his brows. “You went to the gym? It’s so early though.”

Shotaro nodded cutely with a giggle. “A habit I guess?” Then he tilted his head and blinked at Mark. “Hyung, give me a while. I need to get a few books for my next semester.”

Mark gestured to him an ‘ok’. “Alright, I’ll go do my laundry first. Meet you in the dorm lobby in 15?”

Shotaro was already waiting for Mark in the lobby when he finished his laundry. Mark can’t help but smile at how Shotaro looked extra fresh and neat with his hair pushed backward and his forehead showing. “Woah, you look good like that,” Mark complimented.

“Thank you,” Shotaro shyly replied as he dipped his head in embarrassment. “Shall we go now?”

* * *

The bookstore is especially empty during the semester break, and the store owner, a young man with delicate and pretty features, brown messy hair, big eyes, and a nice smile, ran the store. He looked even younger than Mark despite his lanky build.

“Hi, welcome to the Jung Bookstore,” the young man greeted the both of them politely before returning back to arranging the newly arrived books parked by the corner. The brown apron almost looked too small and short for his height, but he still looked endearing and loveable.

Mark glanced around the room and then back at him. “Where’s Mrs. Jung?” He asked casually as he strode up to the clerk who was back facing him. 

The young clerk spun around and looked at Mark blankly before pointing at the cash register. “Ah, Mrs. Jung? I’m her son,” He explained with a thoughtful smile. “She wasn’t feeling very well so I took over for the time being.”

“I see,” Mark nodded, “What’s your name? You look pretty young.”

The tall male’s face lit up and his big doe eyes curved into delighted slits. “My name is SungChan!” He laughed genuinely. “I’m 19 but many people said I look too old and long for my age...You’re the first that said I look young!”

Mark laughed too. But his gaze lingered on SungChan’s face for a tad bit too long and he can’t help but wondered where he had seen those plump, full lips before.

* * *

Yuta stared at the red, orange, and yellow, in various different shades. All of them floating gracefully on the soft breeze. The air was cool and crisp, like a refreshing drink of cool water after hours in a desert. The breeze fluttered around, gently caressing everything it touched with fingers that had been a comfort to so many over their long, lonely years. The autumn breeze tousled Yuta’s hair and pinked his cheeks.

“Yuta, are you ready to go?” Natsuki emerged from the back door and strode up to Yuta who was standing alone on the balcony of a grand hall. Natsuki had a small, black suitcase by his side as he stared at the young master, a thick grey cravat around his neck. “Make sure you bring everything you need.”

Yuta didn’t turn to face Natsuki, instead, he pointed to the biggest Cherry Blossom tree that stood in the corner of the back garden. The one with the most beautiful skin, every brown from deep chestnut to rich mahogany, and the sweetest baby-pink petals that stood out from every other one. Natsuki ambered up behind Yuta and stared at where Yuta was pointing at. “Hyung, remember that tree?”

“That Cherry Blossom tree was the best climber in the garden,” Natsuki commented with a small but loving smile. “I remember how the three of us would always sit on those tree trunks and let our sore, tired limbs relax into the warm summer air.”

Yuta nodded inwardly before he stretched out his hands and tilted his face upward, basking his features in the warmth from the sun rays. The silence was comfortable, the silence between two long-time friends.

“Natsuki,” Yuta finally called out after a long silence.

“Hm?”

“I need you to make an appointment for me,” His face hardened in concentration. “We have someone to meet tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Natsuki replied as he reached for his mobile phone. “Who?”

“The Kawamura Clan.”

* * *

Mark tapped his fingers on the white bookshelves as he picked out a few novels that looked interesting to him, all the while humming a new tune to himself. Mark lifted his eyes slightly and watched Shotaro standing by himself in the Japanese novel section. Mark felt a tingling sensation in his fingers as he somehow thought of Yuta.

Before Mark had realized it, his two feet had brought him to where Shotaro was, and he stood stupidly in the Japanese novel section not knowing how to read a single word. Shotaro looked up from the book he was holding and his eyes immediately softened into friendly crescents when he saw Mark standing awkwardly beside him. 

“Hyung, are you looking for any books?” Shotaro asked softly. Mark rubbed his neck awkwardly as he looked at the books in front of him.

“Not really,” He answered, casting uneasy glances around the room except for the younger male in front of him. “Do you have anything to recommend to read?”

Shotaro tapped on his chin adorably as he eyed the bookshelves one by one. “What’s your language proficiency in Japanese, Hyung?” He asked, picking out a few books that he thought might interest Mark.

“I’m pretty bad, I’m at the foundation level,” Mark shrugged as he leaned in to look at the few books in his hands. “But if you give me any of them I’ll make it work somehow.”

“Alright, let me see,” Shotaro shuffled the few books as Mark watched with great interest. Then Mark caught a flash of both silver and gold on Shotaro’s index fingers. He never comes off as someone heavy with accessories except earrings and necklace for some occasions so it was a small delight for Mark. 

“Shotaro, I never knew you wore rings,” Mark commented brightly, feeling an inkling of joy in him knowing he finally learned something about his mysterious junior. “They look good on you!”

“Huh? Oh- Oh! Thanks!” Shotaro smiled delightfully at the compliment as he glanced at his fingers. Then he pushed a yellow book with two huge kanjis on the cover into Mark’s hand. “Hyung, how about this?”

“What does it say?” Mark inspected the cover and held the book up. 

_"Tokage,_ it translates to “Lizard”, by Banana Yoshimoto,” Shotaro quietly explained as he slotted the other books in. “There are six stories inside, all mixed with a blend of traditional Japanese and contemporary popular culture.”

“Oh, nice!” Mark marveled at the cover for a bit before he flipped open the first few pages to read. “How do you know about this book?”

“Uh... _someone_ had recommended it to me...sometimes ago…” Shotaro laughed rather awkwardly and quietly to himself as he fidgeted with the two rings on his fingers, but Mark was too occupied with his new book and had not paid attention to the younger male beside him.

* * *

“Mark, what are you wearing to the party?” Lucas was drying his dripping wet hair as he poked Mark’s cheeks lightly. The latter had spent the whole day being engrossed in his new books, and while Lucas was glad that his friend had stopped wallowing in sadness, he was still pretty worried for him.

It was 7 p.m and Lucas had already finished dressing up. He had dressed up in a black-dressed shirt that unbuttoned all the way down to his chest and a pair of ripped skinny jeans. Mark looked up from his book and sat blankly on his bed watching Lucas. “...Huh?”

“Go wash up, Johnny-Hyung is coming in 30 minutes,” Lucas said that before whirling around to his drawers. He threw on a few chains and rings and checked himself out in the mirror. “I look good.”

“You always do, Lucas,” Mark mumbled before he yawned and rolled off the bed. “I don’t have enough fits for tonight.”

* * *

“Hey Mark, I found this shirt I never knew I had,” Lucas muttered quietly after Mark had bathed and was rummaging through his closet. The shorter male eyed the shirt suspiciously.

“It looks new,” Mark commented as he dried his hair. Lucas nodded and flung the shirt towards him, which he had managed to catch before it hit his face.

“Yeap it does, I tend to overbuy clothes a lot so a lot of my clothes go to waste,” Lucas replied with an embarrassed grin.

Thanks to Lucas and his amazing fashion sense, he managed to coordinate a simple, yet fashionable outfit for Mark. “You look good in blue, Mark, you should wear it more often,” Lucas commented as he watched Mark pull on a black retro bomber jacket over a dark navy blue shirt that Lucas found in his own wardrobe. “Here, pair it with this chain.”

Mark pulled on a pair of denim jeans and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked fine, he supposed, except for the fact that Lucas's blue shirt was a little too huge for him and his collarbones were out in the air. He pulled the collar up a little before it fell back down. “Blue? I do?” Mark asked half-heartedly. He wasn’t in the mood to dress up because he had no one to impress. Not even himself.

Lucas slid his bottle of hair gel over. “Here, gel your hair backward for a fiercer look.”

Mark’s facial features pulled together as he slid the gel back. “No thanks, I’m good.”

* * *

Johnny’s car reached their school at 7:30 p.m sharp and the two males walked over to the vehicle, one with light, excited steps, and another with tired and depressed strides.

“Sicheng-Ge! Ten-Hyung! It’s been a while!” Lucas literally bellowed as the car drove closer. And he had run over to greet the other two alumni who were seated at the back of Johnny’s car. “Hi, Johnny-Hyung!” Lucas exclaimed as he climbed inside the backseat, immediately filling it up with his long body.

Mark watched him for a while before going up. “Hey, Sicheng-Ge and Ten-Hyung,” he waved innocently to them. It had been a while since he last saw them. The two alumni greeted him back and he went to the front passenger seat. “Hey, Johnny-Hyung.”

“Are you feeling better?” Johnny asked quietly as the trio at the back busted into full Chinese conversation, with Lucas basically laughing maniacally at a bad joke Ten just told. 

“I guess,” Mark nodded. “Bought new books too.”

Out of the blue, Ten burst forward and grabbed Mark’s head rest, causing the younger male to jump at the suddenness. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, Mark!” Ten exclaimed excitedly. “You wanna know my reaction when I first heard that you and Yuta-Hyung were dating?”

“...Sure?” Mark answered with uncertainty.

“So you know, we always thought that Yuta-Hyung and WinWin had a thing,” Ten had to pause because Winwin just landed a hard slap on his arm and muttered, “shut up, Yuta-Hyung only treated me like a little brother”. Ten was struggling so hard not to pass out from laughing but he managed to catch his breath and continued. “But it really caught us all off guard!”

Mark raised his eyebrows and his heartbeat accelerated. “Wh...why? Is it that unexpected?” _Was he not enough? How were Yuta’s exes like? Were they all better, cooler, and more attractive than he is? What did Ten mean by that?_ Mark could almost hear his own heartbeat reverberating through his own eardrums.

“Yea it was!” Ten laughed before wrinkling his nose cutely when he made eye contact with Mark through the rear mirror. “But he was always so picky about everything!” 

“Picky?” Mark questioned as he tilted his head. Yuta was almost the least picky person Mark knew. Especially when he seemed to be so content with anything Mark had done, even if it was the bare minimum.

“He was picky with food, he was picky with almost everything, I swear,” This time it was Johnny who spoke, but his eyes still glued to the road. Mark blinked at him blankly. “Heck, he was even selective about who he wanted to be nice to!”

Ten gasped loudly. “Guys! Remember YoonJo?” He repeatedly slapped his own thigh agitatedly and Mark turned around to look at him.

“Who’s YoonJo?”

“This America born Korean rapper-wannabe dude who tried so hard to get Yuta to date him,” Winwin laughed out loud at the memory. “He got rejected so many times by him it was insane.”

“Why did Yuta-Hyung reject him?” Lucas asked loudly. Mark wanted to ask the exact question.

“Man, that YoonJo dude was god-awful,” Johnny showed a disgusted look. “He came from a wealthy family and would do bat-shit crazy things to get what he wanted.”

“He raped a girl in our second year because she rejected him,” WinWin commented with a shrug. “But he never got into trouble because his dad paid the school and the girl off.”

As he heard this, Mark panicked and his eyes flew wide. “Wait, then Yuta-Hyu-”

“Ha! Don’t worry, Mark,” Ten patted his shoulders comfortingly. “He tried to do some funny things to Yuta too, but you know Yuta, he fought YoonJo and broke two of his fingers.”

“What?!” Mark and Lucas exclaimed simultaneously.

* * *

Inside the club was like dancing on the Northern Lights; beneath the dry-ice smoke swirled an array of blues, acid greens, hot pinks, and gold. The music played over the dance floor as if it had fused with the bodies. Mark felt a throbbing pain developing below his temple every time the glitzy lights flashed past his eyes. He stuck close to Lucas, and at some point moved to grab onto Lucas’s sleeves as they weaved through waves of bodies on the dance floor.

Winwin had gone on his merry way with some of his classmates he saw at the entrance and Ten never made it past the dance floor as he had already become the center of attraction with his fancy moves and alluring expressions.

“Hey! Guys! Meet our juniors!” Johnny dragged the two of them to the group of people sitting at the reserved area of the club. There were five to six low tables with huge round sofas, and all of them were mostly filled with men in flashy outfits and women in skimpy dresses. “This is Lucas and Mark, they’re both from our school and the music club!”

“Hi!” 

“Hey!”

“Hello!”

“Welcome to the party!”

There was a chorus of greetings and Mark waved awkwardly to them while Lucas flashed them one of his charming grins. A few men and women walked up to greet them, one or two ignored them and the majority of them waved to them from where they were seated. Mark managed to shake hands with a few seniors, some of them giving him unsolicited hugs and had their hands on him for a bit too long for comfort, which made him cringed inwardly.

“Oh my, look at him, is he a model?” Mark could hear a girl whispering to another from behind him. He supposed they were talking about Lucas? He stole a glance at Lucas. Either Lucas didn’t hear them or chose to ignore them because the only thing that Lucas was focusing on was the row of pizza boxes laid out on the table.

Johnny beckoned both of them to the table for food and Lucas didn’t need to be told twice. He skipped to the main table and started stuffing pizza slices into his mouth.

“Aw! Look at the one beside him,” He heard another said. “He’s so cute!” Mark felt his ears growing hot and he didn’t like how they were staring at him. He glanced around his whereabouts and realized that some other people had been starring at him with piercing stares and predatory eyes. One specific man, with golden grills laced over his teeth, was giving him lewd gazes.

The fear rose behind his eyes as he shuffled away almost immediately from his spot, nothing could stop the primal surge to flee. Mark hated the club. In fact, Mark hated all clubs. He felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in his abdomen. Tension grew in his face and limbs, his mind replaying the last attack he had. Mark’s breathing became more rapid, more shallow.

Mark’s eyes scanned the chaotic and convoluted dance floor and the panic grew. In seconds, he was pushing bodies and bodies out of the way that had come up as obstacles in front of him. He tried to bite back the trembling of his limbs and salty tears that were beginning to run down his face.

He was finally making it out of the dance floor when a strong hand caught onto his wrist and forcefully dragging him back. Mark whirled his head around and met eyes with the craziest looking person he has ever seen. The man was around Johnny’s age but slightly shorter than him. He had a bandana tied over his head and he had a broad wry smile, his golden grills almost a little too eye-catching to miss. Mark knew who he was. This was the man who had been giving him lewd glances. And his worst nightmare had happened - the man had followed him all the way out here.

“Who- who are you!” Mark screamed loudly as he yanked his arms forcefully, attempting to remove his arms from the strangers’ grasp. But the man was too strong, and the more he pulled, the more pain he felt.

The man then dragged Mark behind him to somewhere further into the club, somewhere far away from the tables Johnny and Lucas were at. “Hel-help! Help me!” Mark yelled. And he flailed his arms and tried to get attention from the dancers and the party-goers, but either they were too drunk or they were too occupied with their dances, none of them paid him any attention. “Johnny! Lucas!” Every time he tried to yank his arms free, the malicious stranger would tug on it with more force, causing Mark to almost lose his balance or trip on his feet.

He was violently shoved into the wall. 

“Oomp-” He grunted. The stranger stood hovering in front of Mark and he eyed him up and down, he licked his lips lecherously. Mark shuddered in pure disgust as he tried to breathe in and out. Air wouldn't enter his lungs. Starved for air, his heart raced at tremendous speeds, and his lungs shallowly rose and fell in time. He stayed rooted in his position as he forced himself to not bawl right there and then.

_Why the fuck do things like this always happen to me?!_

“Who the fuck are you!” Mark wailed. The man simply smirked nastily. He held up his left hand to right in front of Mark to see. 

“You’re Yuta’s boyfriend, aren’t you?”

Mark’s face fell. In that instant his skin became greyed, his mouth hung with lips slightly parted and his eyes were as wide as they could stretch. His left hand had two black finger splints on his index and middle fingers used for broken fingers. _YoonJo._ Mark felt his whole body trembling as he shrunk from his position.

“What do you want from me!” Mark cried out. “Let me go!”

“Hey, hey not so fast, I’m not done having fun with you,” Joonjo cooed, raising one of his slimy fingers to wipe off the stray tears that escaped Mark’s eyes. But he slapped it off with great vigor.

“Don’t touch me,” Mark glared at him, fury vibrated through his being.

YoonJo snorted uglily. "Getting feisty here, aren't we?" He looked away momentarily to crack his neck before whirling back and ramming his hand onto Mark's neck, pressing the younger male into the cold wall with force. His eyes were dark and his vile smirk stretched maniacally. His grip was strong enough to pin him stagnant on the wall and yet not enough to suffocate him. But Mark was breathing all wrong, beginning to gasp like there's not enough oxygen in the air.

His breaths came in gasps and he felt like he could blackout. His heart is hammering inside his chest. The younger male crept his trembling fingers up to hold on to Yoonjo's wrists. He tugged. But his efforts were infertile and he was losing energy. "Let...let me go!" Mark wailed.

YooJo cackled like a madman before tightening his grip on Mark's throat. "You felt that? You felt that?! Huh? Mark?" YoonJo burst into another round of insane mad shrill of laugher. "That was how I felt when Yuta rejected me again," YoonJo tightened his grip once more. "And again," He clenched his hand again, his muscles and veins were bulging from his strength. 

"Let...me...go..." Mark choked. "Ple..please..."

"Oh, look at you, look at you," YoonJo licked his lips again, pushing his face right into Mark's face. "You're _begging_ me, huh. What would Yuta say?"

The room was spinning so badly. Mark felt so sick. He couldn't breathe. Everything hurts. He couldn't breathe. His brain was forging up and his consciousness was slipping away. He couldn't breathe. His head was pounding, every cell in his body was screaming for oxygen. He kept fighting until he felt like his head was about to explode. He had to breathe. At first, all Mark saw were patches of red, blue, orange, and green, then slowly, the oxygen deprivation took his thoughts away and it was blackness and... blackness... creeping blackness...

Before Mark could hit the floor unconscious, the grip on his throat suddenly disappeared and he dropped to the floor like an object before his hands flew up to his throat, gasping heavily for air. The sudden influx of air hurt both his head and his lungs but he wasn't in control of his body as it took in huge gasps. Before he could re-focus his blurring sight, YoonJo's body hit the floor with a hard _thud_ right in front of Mark and the younger male yelped in fear, but no sound came out. Mark snapped his head up to look at the person who saved him and-

_Yuta Nakamoto._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, psst psst (◕▿◕✿)
> 
> This chapter THOUGH ._. Can we all sleep soundly tonight knowing that I haven't tried to suffocate Mark as a cliffhanger? Yes! We! Can! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و (though it was really tempting)
> 
> Anyway, HAPPY MID-WEEK Y'ALL!! The kind support got me all (*´ω｀*) so soft (*´ω｀*).
> 
> Leave me a comment! I promise I'll reply to you as soon as possible! ♡＾▽＾♡
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	18. A DEVIL OUT OF HIS SENSES

“Good evening, Young Master,” The Nakamoto guards based in Korea greeted Yuta with deep bows as he stepped out of the VIP route of the Incheon airport. “Welcome back.”

Yuta walked down the isolated airport aisle with his pockets. It was almost late noon when he reached Korea, Then he suddenly halted to a stop. The entire line of guards and men stopped in their tracks too, some of them almost bumping into each other from the abruptness.

Yuta took his phone out from his coat pocket and _finally_ turned it on. He had turned off his phone completely to avoid being tracked by the _Tsuchigumo,_ he even turned on his airplane mode and sent it to the IT experts to double-check as additional layers of protection. His only fear was that if the _Tsuchigumo_ knew that he had returned to Japan, then it would’ve provided them the perfect opportunity to hurt Mark. Even if what he did was for the best, he can’t help but feel remorseful. 

The moment he turned on his phone, it was almost bombarded with endless amounts of unread messages, some from Shotaro and the majority of them from both Mark and Johnny. On top of that, Mark had left him missed calls on every messaging platform. His heart was racing as he tapped his feet rhythmically against the shiny tiles.

Just the first few messages are enough to shatter Yuta’s heart, like concrete drying in his chest. Mark’s messages had been hard to read. It started out with him being concerned and curious like he always was. A little too caring and a little too kind. There were even a few that he apologized for “ruining the date” as if it wasn’t Yuta’s status that brought trouble to their perfect date. Yuta thought he was going to explode as the frustration he had with himself built. He took a deep breath.

He couldn’t believe Mark was apologizing so much for things he shouldn’t have. There was even one that Mark was asking for forgiveness...when he wasn’t even the least bit at fault. Gosh. Yuta gripped onto his phone so tightly until his palm was sore and burned. If anything, Yuta should be the one apologizing and begging Mark for his forgiveness. 

Yuta rubbed his own chest for comfort. He realized after all this time, Mark was the only person who could cause pain as deep as this. Never in his life after he became the young master of the Nakamoto Clan had he felt low in status...almost powerless.

“Young master,” Natsuki stepped up from behind and passed him the phone in his hand. “Look at this.”

Yuta looked at him quizzically but took his phone nonetheless. “What’s this?”

Shotaro had texted Natsuki about the reunion party that Yuta’s batch-mates held annually, not that Yuta cared or attended any, but there was one specific line at the bottom that caught his attention.

“Johnny-senpai will be bringing Mark to the party on Friday. Mark-Hyung and Johnny-senpai had been trying to reach Yuta-Hyung, but his phone was turned off,” Yuta read to himself. Yuta could almost hear his own heartbeat that grew louder each given second. “Legal age to enter the club is twenty, my birthday has yet to reach, so I might have to sneak in from the back door.”

“What the fuck?” Yuta cursed out loud before looking up from the phone with an annoyed frown. Why would Mark agree to go to the club? Mark was never someone who seemed to be interested in crowded places, let alone a nightclub that he was obviously trying to avoid going to, at least during the period Yuta knew and dated Mark. He must have been too shy and passive to reject the good intentions of others. “Where the fuck was Shotaro’s fake ID?”

Natsuki shrugged as he slid his phone back into his coat. “He had said in the beginning that he didn’t have that with him when he came to Korea because he never knew he'd need it.”

Yuta rested his head in his hands and began to rub his temples, trying to massage away the headache. His _Wakagashira_ placed a hand behind his back and nudged him to keep walking.

“You can always give him a call, you know,” Natsuki spoke softly so that only Yuta could hear him.

Yuta dropped his hands and sighed. “I don’t know, Hyung,” He shook his head, clearly defeated. “What if he doesn’t even want to meet me? What if he doesn’t want to pick up my phone?”

The side of Natsuki’s lips quirked up slightly as he offered Yuta a comforting pat on the shoulder. He wasn’t very well versed in romance or love, that just wasn’t the kind of environment he grew up in. But at the very least, he knew what Yuta had for Mark was love. The truest and the purest form of love.

“Give him a call,” Natsuki repeated again. “I’m sure everything is going to be alright.”

* * *

“Mark is not picking up,” Yuta gripped his phone tighter as he stared into the study room’s wall with great annoyance. “Why is he not picking up?”

Natsuki looked up at the digital clock above the door. 6:45 pm. “Are we going?” He glanced back at Yuta. “The party.”

Yuta ran his fingers through his neat silverish-blue hair before letting them fall messily back onto his face. He sighed. “Yes.”

Yuta didn’t even change out of the white dress shirt he reached Korea in. He picked up the light gray suit jacket and flung it across his shoulder. “Let’s go. Give Shotaro a call and see how it was at his side.”

* * *

Natsuki sat beside Yuta at the back of his black Mercedes. He was on the call with Shotaro for the past 15 minutes and all Yuta could do was call Mark in the hope the younger male would pick up. But it seemed like at this point his phone had been turned off. The fearful thoughts looped around in his mind until there was no room for anything else. Is Mark okay? Is he safe? Why isn’t he picking up his call? Would anyone do anything to him? Yuta rubbed his face for the third time before pulling his phone out just to give Mark a call again. The thought that Mark had been so angry with him that he was rejecting his call had made Yuta’s muscles tensed in the most unnatural way.

Natsuki finally got off the phone with Shotaro and Yuta stared at him expectantly.

“What did he say? Is he with Mark now? Is Mark okay?”

Natsuki sighed and shook his head. “He said the club had bouncers at both the front and the back,” He pressed his lips into a firm line before continuing. “He couldn’t get in.”

Yuta chewed on his knuckles with worry flushed on his face. “What time is it now and how long more will we take to reach the club?”

“It’s 7:50 pm now, Young Master,” The chauffeur replied to him. “We’ll reach in 30 minutes.”

“Make it 15.”

“Yes sir.”

* * *

Yuta weaved through the crowd, looking for that one single person. He was shaking with frustration, anger, and worry and his jaw clenched so tight it was hurting. But he put those aside as he had something more important to deal with. Which was to find Mark.

Natsuki had ordered all of his men to scour for Mark and to report back to them once they located him.

_Please let him be with Johnny, Lucas, Ten, or Win Win. Please, please, please._ Yuta’s brows drew together. Something doesn’t feel right. 

Yuta almost made it out from the dance floor before a very drunk Ten crashed into him. “Yuta-Hyuuung,” Ten slurred as he gripped onto Yuta’s shoulders for support. “You’re here!”

Yuta grabbed Ten firmly and forced him to stand straighter, “Ten, where’s Mark?”

Ten giggled, his face red as he pointed to the reserved tables at the corner. “With Johnny-Hyung,” He hiccuped. “C’mon Yuta-Hyung, dance with me.”

Yuta didn’t even reply to Ten, he simply steadied him before dropping his arms and strode towards where Ten had directed him to. From afar, Yuta could already see Johnny going wild with his friends, all of them betting on some stupid arm-wrestling game with alcohol shots laid out on the table. Lucas, on the other side, pressed down into the huge, red velvet sofa as the ladies surrounding him were drowning him in alcohol. His cheeks were red and his eyes drowsy, but they weren’t stopping with the alcohol flow. “Drink more, Lucas! Drink more!" They squealed.

No Mark in sight. 

Yuta stomped up to Johnny and grabbed onto his collars and pulled him close to his face. Yuta’s face mottled crimson, his eyes narrowed, the vessels and muscles on his neck strained. “Where’s Mark?” His words were spat out with ferocity.

“O-oh! Yuta! You’re here-” Johnny stared at Yuta without blinking, clearly surprised and bewildered at the suddenness.

“Where. Is. Mark." His fuse simmered and fizzed like a firework in a chill autumn breeze, Yuta’s fists tightened around the fabric and he gritted his teeth locked. Johnny might have had his fair share of alcohol, but it wasn’t enough to fog his consciousness and knowledge that Yuta becomes an uncontrollable monster. In another word, _a devil out of his senses._

“I think...I think he went that way,” Johnny’s voice was soft, but it was obvious that he felt guilty for leaving Mark alone. His eyebrows arched and he pointed to a general direction that he last remembered seeing Mark going. Yuta locked his smoldering dark eyes onto Johnny’s before dropping both of his hands and turning to leave.

“Yuta, wait-”

Yuta stopped in his tracks and whipped his head towards the older male. “If anything happened to Mark,” Yuta breathed out with suppressed anger. “I won’t forgive you.”

* * *

Yuta thought his eyes were cheating on him when he _thought_ he saw Mark with someone else. Yuta stood in the crowd and squinted his eyes once more, trying to see through all the different people dancing and walking before him. It didn’t take him too long before realization hit him. 

He didn’t see anything wrong. And that wasn’t even the worst part. 

It's Mark. And he was being _choked._

Yuta could feel his blood running cold before they transformed into cold fury. It burnt with dangerous intensity. Yuta sprinted forward, shoving any and everyone out of the way, ignoring all of the grunts and curses that were thrown at him. Someone had spilled cold beer against his sleeves but that was the least of his concern at that point in time.

He wasn’t thinking when he let out his boiling antipathy and swung his tight fist, too quick and potent, using his speed as a momentum, into Joonjo’s defined jaw; the impact like thousands of venomous blades piercing apart his clammed fist, but it didn’t stop him from landing a second punch straight into the center of Joonjo’s face, sending him falling onto the cold tiles. Yuta looked from Joonjo to Mark who had fallen to the ground weakly. He was grabbing onto his red, bruised neck, choking on air. His face was pale and he coughed out painfully.

“Arh!” Joonjo shrieked. “Who the fuck are yo-”

Yuta’s blood hummed in his veins as he let pure fury and agitation take over. He could feel his fist smashing into his nose, splattering red blood on the dirty walls.

There was a cold burning to Yuta’s rage, a piece of ice that scared Mark. The younger sure had seen that look in his eye before, but never toward him. It was how Yuta showed hatred, dominance, and imparted fear. In one stride he was hovering right on top of Joonjo, and Mark saw the familiar _golden_ as Yuta pulled back his suit jacket.

Yuta drew his pistol out and clocked it. He directed the gun down and pressed the barrel in between Joonjo’s brows, the man on the ground had blood pooled in his open mouth, staining his grills red. Yuta felt it, the anger coiled in his guts and the resentment that marinated him building like an unstoppable snowball in the pit of his stomach. Yuta rested his finger against the trigger and clenched his jaw tightly. Before he could pull it, an icy cold hand grabbed onto his wrist, long slender fingers wrapping around it. It felt soothing...like ice comforting the fire that raged in him.

Yuta looked up from Joonjo to his wrist to the owner of the icy cold hand. Mark weakly grabbed onto his but his eyes were firm. “Hyung, don’t,” His voice came out coarse and more like a whisper. But it reflected his resolution and assertiveness. “He’s not worth it.”

The simple touch sent a wave of butterflies coursing through Yuta’s veins, their fluttering wings easing the dread that had settled inside him. Yuta breathed out and dropped his arms. He walked up to Mark and slowly opened his arms. The younger didn’t hesitate to go into them. Mark buried his face into Yuta’s nape as his arms wrapped around his neck. It felt as if when he was in Yuta’s arms all his pain went away - mental and physical. He took all the time in the world to drown down his chaotic and rowdy world with Yuta’s warmth, taking in the way it moved, the smell of wood and cherry blossom, even the sound of his heart beating.

Yuta gave Mark a few seconds to settle in his embrace before he shot his _Wakagashira_ , who was standing somewhere close to where he was, with the rest of his men, a look. Mark wouldn’t want him to _kill_ Joonjo, but like hell would he let this bastard live.

He gently stroked the back of Mark’s head a few times and planted a long kiss on the top of his head before leaning down to his ear, “Let’s go outside, Mark.”

Mark nodded weakly and struggled to get onto his feet. He tried supporting himself with his own arm and pushing himself up, but his efforts were rendered futile - the muscular aches to the emotional pull toward lethargy, this fatigue, overwhelmed him so greatly, that he fell right back to the ground.

"Hey-" Yuta called out as he reached out subconsciously to steady him. "You, alright? Can you stand up?"

"Wait," he muttered, feeling as though energy was being constantly drained out of him, as though he was leaking electricity. "Give me a second-"

Yuta didn't wait for Mark to stand again, he walked over and carried him bridal style, one arm under his legs and the other supporting his back.

"Ah- Hyung-" Mark cried out as his balance was suddenly thrown off, reaching out frantically to hold onto Yuta's shoulders and neck for support. "I can, I can walk!"

Yuta strode forward, his men marching behind him quietly. "I know you can, Mark, but for now, rest."

* * *

Yuta reached out his hand to caress Mark’s neck, which was still angrily pink, the shape of Joonjo’s fingers visible. Yuta’s face has become rigid, jaw clamped tight, teeth grinding. He would love to watch Joonjo’s face explode, and would even love it more if he could do it himself.

They were standing at the empty corner right beside the entrance of the club, waiting for Yuta’s chauffeur to pick them up. Mark’s eyes were set on the swelling of the veins of Yuta’s neck, waiting to explode. He knew how pissed Yuta was. He sighed tiredly before grabbing Yuta’s hand that was on his neck and held it with both of his hands. “I’m okay, Hyung,” he sighed tiredly before closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Yuta’s collarbone. "You changed your hair color," Mark muttered in an attempt to lighten the mood up.

Yuta wrapped a hand around Mark’s waist and pulled him closer. He rubbed warm, comforting circles into Mark’s back. “I called you so many times, but why didn’t you answer me?” Yuta asked quietly. It wasn’t one that sounded angry or reprimanding. It was filled with worry and guilt, and Mark recognized that.

Mark pulled out his phone without looking up and slapped it in Yuta’s hand. Yuta tried to turn on the screen but the phone was already dead. “I turned on airplane mode the second week you ghosted me…” he said, stopping to take a deep breath. He let it all out in one sigh, watching it float off like smoke in the cold air. “I was having too much anxiety as I kept checking my phone for you…so I just…”

Yuta felt the feeling of the tightening in his chest. He rested his chin on top of Mark’s head and closed his eyes. “I’m really sorry, Mark, I...I…” Yuta paused. He didn’t know what to tell Mark. All he knew he was too much of a coward to deal with his own fears so he fled.

Mark looked up and offered Yuta a comforting smile. “It’s okay,” He shrugged. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I can wait.”

Yuta lowered his face to Mark’s and their lips met. He placed his hand on Mark’s waist and drew him closer, deepening the kiss. As they parted, Mark saw his eyes sparkle and lips curved up into a smile, and the younger male couldn't help but smile back.

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

Mark strode out of the shower with his hair dripping wet. Yuta's oversized white T-shirt was hanging off his left shoulder, exposing his pale white neck all the way down to his left shoulder. Yuta did a double-take at Mark who had wandered around the room obliviously as he was removing the rings on his fingers and placing them back into the jewelry box. Oblivious because Yuta definitely felt _something._

"Mark, sit here," Yuta patted the office chair and motioned the younger male to come over. "Let me dry your hair for you."

Mark sniffled innocently and sauntered over. He plopped his body down onto the big, soft chair and swirled the chair around to face Yuta. The older male took him by surprise by cupping Mark's cheek with his hands, a faint smile playing his lips as he slowly begins stroking my cheek with his thumb. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," Mark laughed as he leaned into his hands. Although the moment is light and playful, Mark's heart is heavy and sore, hammering hard in his chest as he struggled not to cry. He missed Yuta so much. His touch. His gentleness. His warmth. At that moment, Yuta leaned downwards, his lips draw dangerously close to Mark's and he could feel his electric breath hitting his skin like a short-circuit, cutting through his mind like little sparks. 

"I missed you, Mark," His hand slowly slides down to grip the younger male's chin, his thumb now smoothing over his bottom lip, "I really did."

"I do, too," Mark sighed. "Very, very much."

His eyes flicked over to meet Mark's briefly before his gaze runs back down to lock onto Mark's lips. He tilts his head at an angle and smiled, "Yea, but I'm back now," He whispered, smoothing his thumb over Mark's bottom lip again. "Don't move," He said, before leaning in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who wanted me to give Mark a happy life: (○´―`)ゞ roger that
> 
> Won't be updating on Wednesday because I'll be having four final exams next week and they're all spread out till Friday...so... ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ see you guys soon? ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	19. THE BOY WITH THE DRAGON TATTOOS (PART III)

Yuta pulled on his fading grey sweater for an unknown amount of times before the fabric fell back onto his skin and stuck there with his sweat acting like super glue. “Urgh!” He groaned with annoyance before lifting his sweater up again.

“Catch!” Natsuki hollered before throwing him a bottle of ice-cold water from quite a distance. Yuta managed to get it before it hit him straight across the face, though his reflexes had never allowed it, he glared at the older male before pressing the bottle against his neck.

Natsuki plopped himself down beside Yuta, in black tight tank singlet, the golden Nakamoto symbol noticeable on the bottom of the neck's edging. He took a judgemental glance at Yuta before gulping down the water he had in his hand. “Your dad got people to design the perfect training outfit for Summer and here you are, in your supposedly-oversized-sweater that has grown too small for you,” Natsuki chuckled sarcastically. “I don’t know, roll up your sleeves or something?”

“Gosh, when will you shut up about this,” Yuta squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the beads of sweat rolling down his face like the stone fountain near the grand hall. “This sweater fits fine.”

Natsuki put on the most incredulous expression he could and gaped at Yuta. “Excuse me? Fits fine?” He practically yelled, earning him a few surprised glances from the gardeners a few yards down for shouting at the Young Master. “You got this sweater since you’re five!”

Yuta scooted into the shade and pulled his legs up to his chest. He raised his eyebrows at Natsuki. “And?”

“You’re eight! For God’s sake!”

Yuta was quiet. He picked up the bottle and finished the last bit of it wordlessly. Natsuki sighed.

“You know, even if you changed into T-shirts or training fits, no one would say a thing,” His young _Wakagashira_ stared at him, waiting for him to speak or react or something, but he didn’t. Yuta didn’t say a thing. Natsuki planted the empty bottle down into the soil and scooted near Yuta and smiled teasingly with a gentleman's hand across his chest. “At least let me roll your sleeves up for you, Young Master?”

Yuta shook his head and patted his sleeves casually. “It’s fine the way it is,” He replied firmly.

If there was one possession that Yuta would bring to his death and down to the grave with him, it would be the three sweaters that Haru had knitted for him. “I made them a few sizes bigger so they’ll fit even if you’re a little older,” Haru had said when she first brought them to his room. Being with Sir Nakamoto meant that he will never be short of clothes, let alone these homemade sweaters. But there were two reasons why Yuta wouldn't give up wearing them, even in this ardently hot summer:

One, Haru made them for him. It was what he first **owned** after losing everything. And two, they covered the hideous scars that were scattered around his arms and torso.

Yuta looked down at himself. Honestly, the sweater still fits fine, he looks fine. Even though the colors have been fading and some of the threads and seams had long come loose, if not for the maids who had been patching it back for him, these few sweaters would already become a pile of strings and torn cloths.

Natsuki pushed himself up to his feet and ruffled Yuta’s hair with adoration. “Practice resumes in 5 minutes, don’t be late,” he fixed his top and ruffled his hair. “I’ll go practice a little more, see ya.”

“Hm, see you in a while,” Yuta quietly replied. He pushed his fist into the wet and chilly soil, the new bronze ring digging a mini indent out of it. Yuta gritted his teeth as he let the cold soil soothe his sore palms. The little rocks in the soil were digging into his skin. For a normal eight years old boy on a normal day, these rocks would have hurt or cut his hands, but for Yuta, his hands were thick with calluses he barely felt anything, just the lingering discomfort that he could easily ignore.

He still remembered the day he finally got his first rank-ring after the fifth evaluation. It was hard for him to catch up to his fellow peers, who were way older than him and had more training than him. Natsuki was already in his silver rank when Yuta had his bronze.

It was hard for him to forget that day. All he needed to do was close his eyes and images of that day would come flooding back into his brain.

That day was a Wednesday, he remembered clearly. It was one of the rare days that Sir Nakamoto was free enough to attend the evaluation that occurs every two months. Yuta was lying on the ground, his chest heaving heavily as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting the adrenaline wash away with the dizziness that bounced around in his brain. 

“Very good, Yuta,” Sir Nakamoto had said quietly. Yuta’s eyes flew open and he stared at his father with a pair of huge wide eyes. He wanted to sit up, but his body was against his control. He gave up trying when he saw Sir Nakamoto squatted down instead, and leveled his eyes to Yuta’s. His face was void of any facial expression and he had sounded more commanding, the young child had appreciated the sincerity in his tone, though. 

One of his hands reached over to the top of Yuta’s shoulder as he hovered gracefully over Yuta’s body that was sprawled inelegantly in a corner of the training gym, while rows and rows of suited men and guards lined up behind him majestically. “I’m seeing some improvement on the punches and the kicks.”

Yuta stared at him unmoving from his position. “Dad? Can I ask you something?”

Sir Nakamoto pushed his glasses up and pushed his hair back. “Sure,” he replied quietly, his calm and collected manners unfailing.

“When will I ever go back to the headquarters with you?”

The clan leader frowned down at Yuta as subtle anger grazed his features before they disappeared. Yuta bit his tongue as he pushed himself up to the sitting position, and he lowered his gaze like any other children who had been reprimanded by their parents.

The clan leader sighed deeply. He looked at his knees for a while before staring back at Yuta, “Yuta, I said when you’re 18, right? Did I not promise you that?” His voice was soft, making it was hard to gauge what he was thinking and what emotion he was feeling. Sad? Angry? Disappointed? It could be anything.

“Yes, dad,” Yuta quietly replied as he ducked his head down, even more, fiddling with his tiny fingers embarrassedly, refusing to meet the older male’s eyes.

Sir Nakamoto chuckled softly, though only Yuta heard that, and he raised his head a little to steal a peek. The clan leader raised his big hands on Yuta’s head and ruffled them gently. “Practice harder, I believe in you,” He smiled at him, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Yuta appreciated the sentiment. “I’ll see you in the next evaluation, okay?”

The clan leader stood up and pulled his jacket straight and dusted his clothes. “Let’s go,” he ordered and left with his troop of men and guards, not sparing Yuta a second look.

_“Look at him, poor boy, his father doesn’t even spare him a look.”_

_“I told you, didn’t I? He was the illegal son of the Nakamoto family.”_

_“Huh! Who said rich people get a good life? Look at him! He’s so much worse than we are!”_

_“The worst part is that he is_ **_nothing_ ** _like Sir Nakamoto! Our boss is so good at everything! But look at this little bastard! He’s nowhere near him!”_

_“That’s why he’s not enjoying his life in the Headquarters, I’m telling ya!”_

Yuta heard them, those were the few men who were training to become future official guards for the Nakamoto Clan. But Yuta wouldn’t fight them or defend himself against them. There wasn’t a need to. Simply because he knew whatever they were saying was true. Well, all except the illegal son part. Well, kinda. Because _technically_ he was adopted into the family by law. But the news about him being adopted was never made public. There were lesser than fifteen people in the clan who knew about his true identity - Natsuki, whom Yuta personally chose and appoint to be his right-hand man, the _Wakagashira_ of Sir Nakamoto _,_ his two _Shategashira_ and the other two men who followed the clan leader to the orphanage and watched the process of adoption, and the three maids who were ordered to take care of Yuta.

To the rest of the people in the clan, on one fine Friday, Yuta was suddenly presented to everyone in the middle of the training ground, announced as the Young Master of the Nakamoto Clan. It was no wonder why no one worshipped him the way they did with their clan leaders. But Yuta would very much prefer how it was now.

It was easy to ignore them once he got used to them. Not to mention how they were all paper tigers - appearing threatening but are ineffectual, they wouldn’t dare to lay a single finger on him.

One week after the evaluation came the specially-made bronze ring, customized for an eight-year-old boy. Yuta held it close to his eyes as he inspected it in his tiny hands. One dragon meticulously carved into the surface.

  
  


The subsequent training was hard. No, _every_ training was hard. Like insanely and inhumanely hard. Apart from the morning, afternoon, and evening marathon and down and up the mountain, which Yuta thought was manageable, he also had to go through almost all forms of combat training, from mixed martial arts, Jujitsu, Aikido to Judo. The worst of them all was the firearm training courses. He would fire rounds and rounds of bullets onto the dummy target, and his trainer, Mr. Shimada wouldn't let him off till he got a hundred bull’s eyes. The handguns were heavy and they tore the skin on his palm, forming little bumps of calluses around his small hands.

But no matter how hard it had been for him, Yuta had sworn to never complain or cry. He recognized his privileges and the circumstances he had agreed to partake in. 

* * *

Hours came to days, days came to months, and months came to years, Yuta had seen several springs, summers, autumns, and winters; from the entire training ground turning pink to green to orange and white, it was almost insane how quickly time flies especially with the amount of time Yuta spent on training and homeschooled in the training ground. In a blink of an eye, it was already his sixth year being adopted into the Nakamoto family and now, there's a silver ring sat quietly above his bronze one on his ring finger. 

He thought he would be bored and tired of his never-ending loop of life, consisting only of his training and studying, but no! Life took an amazing turn and his life _definitely_ became better.

Last year, during his birthday party held in the headquarter of the Nakamoto Clan, someone had anonymously sent him a book as a birthday present. 

_Lizard_ , was the name of the book. 

Amidst all the expensive gifts that he received, ranging from a variety of custom-made and designed firearms and gold bars and necklaces gifted by the other clan leaders, to branded limited edition outfits that were ordered by Sir Nakamoto, the book was the only thing that caught his eyes.

The excitement wired his body like he was plugged into the mains. He felt like his brain was on fast-forward and there was no off switch. He climbed into the back seat of the car that was sending him back to the training ground with the book hidden in his suit jacket. He tore the wrappers open almost immediately after the vehicle started moving. “Lizard,” he mouthed the word as his eyes sparkled with pureness. He flipped through the book, and right in the middle of the book was a yellow letter card clipped in between the two pages and he pulled it out.

_Dear Yuta,_

_I hope this present finds you well._

_If my calculations are correct, you’re ten years old this year, right?_

_I still think about you every time we receive new books from donors, every new sweater I've knitted, and every time the flowers you planted started blooming in Spring._

_The other caretakers missed you a lot, too. Happy 10th birthday, Yuta. We all hope you have a fantastic day and a fantastic year to come._

_Love,_

_Haru_

Yuta felt giddy with excitement. He wanted to run, to shout, to tell everyone what present he got and _who_ gave it to him...but he wasn’t going to. Instead, he sat at the back of the car, staring hard into the bright, blinking street lights, clutching the book tightly in his chest as he kicked his legs in the air back and forth. His mind was like a butterfly, whatever distraction he chose for himself his mind kept fluttering back to the book in his hand. Then he'd get that tingly feeling all over again.

* * *

“Oh my god, let me show you something!” Yuta whisper-screeched as he pulled Natsuki behind him, sprinting back to his room with the older male having surprise and confusion flushed over his face. Two little young boys dashed down the corridors with the maids not even given enough time to greet them. 

“What’s this? Who gave you this?” Natsuki asked quietly as he twirled the book around. He shot Yuta a look with his brows knitted together. “Don’t tell me you stole-”

“No! No!” Yuta yelled, waving his arms frantically around. Then, he snatched the book back protectively and hugged them back into his chest. “This was given by one of my caretakers back when I was in the orphanage!”

Natsuki sat down on his bed. “Of everything given to you, this is the only thing you bothered to bring it back with you?” He grinned cheekily at Yuta. “Not even those extra-expensive tailor-made suits your dad ordered for you?” 

“Tsk, shut up,” Yuta scrunched his nose up as he flopped down beside Natsuki, lying on his back, “They’ll send the gifts back here soon, anyway.”

The banter between them went back and forth for a while before Yuta got serious again. They were quiet as Yuta stared intensely up at Natsuki for a bit.

“I’m going to track back to Haru's address,” He paused. “And write her a letter back.”

“Don’t,” Natsuki shook his head and stared firmly at him. “Sir Nakamoto would be mad.”

“He won’t find out,” Yuta pouted as he sat back up. “I promise!”

It was easy for him to track back to the address of Haru. Yuta knew how much his father wanted to hide the truth to his identity, so all he could do was to snoop around behind his dad’s back to do his little investigation. Though it would be so much easier to get Natsuki or some other guards to just look into the address of the orphanage he once lived in, that would also mean that his identity might be revealed and Yuta wouldn't risk that.

Yuta had found out that Haru had mailed and labeled the gift for Yuta as his birthday present. Like every other present sent to him by various businessmen and clan leaders who were not attending the party, the gift was then checked through by the security team and then sent to the party if it was deemed as safe. And through the security team who received the presents, Yuta had managed to get Haru’s address from them, though some money had been paid to silence them.

And it had been almost a year since he had been exchanging letters with Haru. With the help of his maids, of course. They were the ones who had been helping him to send the letters and receiving them for him.

Yuta crouched under his wooden bed frame, lying on his tummy as a torchlight sat on the floor, illuminating the paper on the floor. Numerous books stacked and boxes of letters scattered around him.

He had built a fort of safe space under his bed frame.

_Dear Haru,_ he began. Then he paused and tapped the pencil against his chin. _Too ugly._ He erased the words and rewrote them again. He wanted the words to be pretty and the previous one was a little too squiggly for his own likings. _Dear Haru,_ he wrote again, this time, he made sure the words look pretty.

Then, the door flew open before he could get past the first two words on the paper and Yuta jumped, accidentally jerking the pencil lead against the paper a little too violently and breaking it.

Natsuki sprinted in and slid under the bed with his frictionless indoor shoes like a pro, almost crashing into Yuta but he managed to stop himself in time. He blinked blankly at Yuta as he caught his breath. “Y...es?” Yuta asked quietly as he watched Natsuki with an equally blank face.

“Oh gosh, I’m tired,” Natsuki panted. It’s Sunday, which meant it’s the only day in his entire week that they get a day off. _Why the hell would Natsuki even train on a rest day?_ “Sir Nakamoto had asked us to go back to the headquarter.”

“...Huh?” Yuta blurted out. “Today?”

“Yes,” Natsuki nodded with seriousness. “ _Right now.”_

* * *

Yuta and Natsuki had been standing outside of the office room for a while. He tapped his black leather shoes against the polished marble and hummed a song Haru always did. He fiddled the hem of his suits before the two panels of the doors were pulled open, revealing the two _Shategashiras_ that worked for his dad. “The Clan leader has called for you,” One of them said before bowing to Yuta and pulling the door wider for them to enter.

Sitting right in front of his dad’s office table was a young child, too big to be a baby but still very young. For the most part, he kept his head buried into his own woolen jacket, his black tufty hair sticking out behind like he’s too shy or too afraid to look up. His legs were hanging in the air as he sat like a small clockwork toy on the chair, too tall and huge for his age, his fingers curled into the fabric of another older guard of the Nakamoto clan, not clasping it tightly, but just enough to reassure him they were staying together in this strange place. Against his black jacket, his pale skin stood out a little too much. Yuta stared at the back of the child for a bit before turning his attention back to his father.

“Good afternoon, dad,” He greeted with a formal bow, Natsuki at the back, doing the same. “I heard you asked for me.”

“Yes, I want you to meet somebody, come closer,” Sir Nakamoto replied. He motioned Yuta to go closer before pushing his glasses up his nose bridge and slicking a few of his stray hair back.

Yuta strode up and stood right beside where the kid was seated and he shot him a look of curiosity. The kid, presumably only three of four, looked back at him, his two beady eyes followed Yuta's movements, studying his facial micro-expressions. The young master grimaced and frowned down at him, disliking the way this kid was watching him and how he was watching him, it was as if he could read him and Yuta hated that.

“This child,” Sir Nakamoto interjected with a firm voice, drawing attention from the two of them. “He’s Osaki Shotaro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AyYYYyye, I'm back!
> 
> How's everyone doing! To celebrate my end of Finals here's a double update (•ө•)♡
> 
> I know a lot of people have been curious about Shotaro, so we'll dive a bit into that (also more young Yuta & Natsuki moments nnngghh...they're so cute (ღ˘⌣˘ღ))
> 
> Aight, you're done reading this chapter? Go go, let's go! ( ･ω･)☞ 
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	20. BITEMARK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Yes. Implied sex. Up to your imaginations.

Mark was sitting on the office table reading through some of Yuta’s book, swinging his legs like a small child, when the older male stepped out of the shower, wearing a black comfortable T-shirt, his blue hair, too, dripping wet. Mark put the book down momentarily and took a deep breath of the fragrance of Yuta’s shampoo and body wash flooded the room. “You smell so good,” Mark commented with a lopsided smile as he watched Yuta with a soft gaze.

Yuta raised the towel draped across his shoulder to dry his hair before pushing his hair back, a few strands falling over his forehead. He smiled at Mark who tilted his head to the side as he smiled back sweetly. _Gosh._ Yuta had the kind of face that stopped people in their tracks. I guess he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course, the blush that accompanied it was a dead give-away. It didn't help that he was so modest with it, it made the girls and the boys fall for him all the more. Despite all the opportunity that came his way he chose Mark, and _oh my gosh_. Mark swooned. Yuta was handsome alright, but inside he was beautiful.

The older male walked to where Mark was and placed both of his hands on both sides of Mark, caging him in between his arms. There are suddenly butterflies in Mark’s stomach. Which was weird, because they have been together for a while, and yet, every time he looked at Yuta, it was as if he fell in love with him all over again like the first.

Mark didn’t know what came over him, but he sat up slightly in his arms. His cheeks burnt and his head spun. He tilted his head and pressed his lips onto Yuta’s without a second thought. Yuta’s body tensed up slightly beneath him, he seemed to be a little confused. But eventually, Yuta gave in and relaxed under Mark’s kiss, he reached behind Mark’s back to hold him in place. He moves his hand up to the back of Mark’s head, slowly stroking a bit of his neck before pulling him closer, his mouth refusing to leave his. 

Mark can’t even properly fathom how much he loves Yuta’s gentle and slow kisses even more than before. Because this kiss was driving him so crazy, so desperate, making him go wild. He reached down to clasp his arms around Yuta, pulling him closer as he leaned slightly back on the table.

Mark broke the kiss abruptly, resting his forehead against Yuta’s, both of them panting heavily. Then, like a snap of a finger, the thought, and realization of what he had just initiated dawned on him. Mark’s blush seared through his cheeks and for a minute he thought his face was on fire. He suddenly felt awkward, demure, and _embarrassed_ as hell. 

He subtly pushed Yuta aside and leaped down from the table to the ground and leveled his eyes with Yuta. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Yuta smiled at him softly. "You feeling okay?" 

"Uh.. yea," Mark said awkwardly, looking away to avoid direct eye contact with him. 

Yuta tilted his head a little, more hair fell over his hair, making him even more mesmerizing and ethereal as he stared straight, assessing Mark. The younger male became nervous, heat crawling up from his chest to his ears. He felt like prey under his gaze.

"Did any of my books catch your eyes?" Yuta asked as he picked up the book Mark was reading. _Another book that was given by Haru._ He smiled and turned back to him. “How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie? This is a good one.”

"Y-yea, it’s a good one," Mark muttered as he stood there fiddling with his fingers awkwardly. Yuta looked at him again and Mark clearly looked away to avoid his eyes.

Yuta dropped the book back onto the table and smirked. 

"Tell me then, up until which chapter were you in?" 

Oh god, Mark wanted to run away.

"Uhhh well, you see, I was trying to just read the synopsis, and like, you know," Mark rambled on tirelessly. “If you could excuse me-” He tried to make his escape, but Yuta was quicker. He grabbed the younger male’s hand, pulling him closer into his chest. Mark was downright freaking out. 

"Right, so tell me what the book was about, maybe we could do some _discussions_ ," Yuta offered sweetly, softly pushing some of Mark’s bangs back into place, another hand still held firmly to his wrist.

Before Mark had any time to collect his thoughts, he felt a hot breath on his neck, then the tender brush of lips. Burning as they make contact with his neck. A hand ran through his hair, as the kisses became harder and more urgent. Another hand slid around his waist and pulled him closer to his pleasantly earthy scented body.

Mark didn’t even remember the logistics of whatever was happening. The next thing he could logically make out was that he was already on the bed with Yuta’s kisses now on his exposed shoulders and inclining to his collarbones.

Mark gritted his teeth tightly, but it couldn’t stop the soft whimpers that escaped his lips as Yuta slowly bit his skin that covered his collarbones. “You looked good in that blue shirt you wore tonight,” Yuta murmured against Mark’s skin as he raised a hand to stroke the back of his ears. Mark shuddered.

“It was Lucas’s,” Mark managed out. He was so enthralled by Yuta’s butterfly kisses that layered above the bite marks on his collarbones and neck that even processing questions with his brain was hard now.

As Yuta kissed the back of his ears, a wave of pure pleasure ran through Mark’s entire body. Yuta’s scent was intoxicating. “You’re only allowed to wear my clothes from now on,” he whispered as his lips hovered above Mark’s sensitive skin. He then kissed his way gently from his neck to lips that tasted of cherry, the scenery around him disappeared and Yuta found himself lost in this moment.

Mark knew that once Yuta kissed him his resistance would crumble. After just a few delicate touches of his warm lips, his hands will start to do his bidding. They would fall down his back as his head swam, all previous thoughts stopped in their tracks. Now there was only one desire, one wish, and they both know it's just a matter of time before it happened.

* * *

The first time the arms draped around him, it didn’t wake him. But the coldness and emptiness that accompanied it did. He found himself searching for the familiar scent and warmth among the sheets, but no matter how much he felt around, nothing except a lukewarm spot was there. Slowly and reluctantly, he uncovered his face from the soft white sheets. He blinked, closed his eyes, and blinked again, attempting to adjust his eyes to the darkness of the room. Streaks of moonlight penetrated the window and illuminated the room only very slightly. He sat up, dragged his feet off the bed, and rubbed his knuckles onto my eyes. Mark picked up the same white shirt he was wearing and threw it on, rubbing his arms as the coldness of approaching winter hit his bare body.

A dark silhouette was obvious against the thin sliding panel that divided the room from the balcony and Mark smiled. The familiar silhouette was sleek and graceful, exactly the way its owner was like.

Mark strode over and slid the screen panel open, revealing Yuta who was seated on a pale green cushion and a traditional tea ceremony table by his side. The blue-haired male looked up with a slight grin, slightly surprised at his entrance. “Why are you awake at this hour, Mark?” He asked. His voice was soft, almost featherlike, like his kisses. “You were tired, you should sleep more.”

Yuta pushed the table aside and patted the space between his legs. Mark wordlessly strutted over and slid in between him, resting the back of his head against Yuta’s shoulder. He closed his eyes for a bit and enjoyed the feeling of him being engulfed in Yuta’s warmth. It was very nice.

Yuta ran his hand through Mark’s hair and massaged his scalp a little. They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth of companionship, watching the twinkling stars above them.

“Mark,” Yuta finally said, breaking the silence between them.

“Hm?”

“Were you upset that I...just...went missing?”

Mark was quiet, his brain formulated no thoughts other than to register that he was shocked. This was definitely the question he didn't expected Yuta to ask right in the dead of the night.

Yuta stroked his ears for a bit. “Mark…?”

“Yea, yea, I’m here, sorry, I’m just,” Mark sucked in a deep breath for rambling mindlessly. Memories of those nights flooded in and his eyes shifted to the side again and became glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As he blinked, they dripped from his eyelids and slid down his cheeks. He bit his lip tightly in an attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from his mouth; Yuta’s heart sank.

“Mark, I’m sorry,” Yuta reached a hand up to wipe away the tear that lingered on his jaw. “I’m really sorry.”

Mark pushed Yuta’s hand away and sat up, he turned to face Yuta. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes cast down in a mournful gaze. His mouth was set in a semi-pout.

“The first night I reached my room, I was so worried that I fucked up, and I tried to text you,” Mark swallowed, his lower lip quivered as words slowly made their way out of his mouth. “But you didn’t answer me.”

“The second day, I texted to you again, and you _still_ didn’t reply to me. I tried to call you countless times, and yet you picked up none of my calls,” Mark continued. “And before I even knew it, I was having trouble falling asleep and I couldn’t eat a single meal without worrying over what I did so wrong for you to go all uncontactable on me.”

“Mark, I-”

“And gosh! Nakamoto Yuta, you asshole!” Mark felt the anger boiling up inside him as he reached out and landed a hard punch on Yuta’s arm. “I get that you have all your...stuff going on, but that’s fucking irresponsible of you!”

Yuta wanted to say something, but instead, he closed his mouth, then looked at his toes before glancing back up to catch Mark’s eyes. "It was really selfish of me, I’m sorry," was all he could say. He sat up straight and reached over to pull Mark back into his embrace, and Mark was too upset, so he squinted his eyes meanly at Yuta, who dropped his hands immediately.

“I'll tell you everything, I promise.”

Mark didn't answer that, but he didn’t want Yuta to feel pressured to answer him especially if it’s something he felt too sensitive to talk about. He held a hand out to Yuta to stop him. “Wait, no, only if you feel comfortable to tell me.” His voice was firm, but it almost couldn’t mask his own worry and concern for Yuta.

Yuta blinked at him before sitting cross-legged on the cushion. “Yea, I am, sorry last night I was just,” Yuta breathed out. “Overwhelmed.”

Mark, despite still feeling grumpy, reached over and grabbed Yuta’s hand and held them in between his as a form of comfort. “It’s okay..”

“I went back to Japan to visit my dad.”

Mark felt his muscle tensed. It was rare that Yuta would talk about any of his family members, except for that one time in his hidden armory, and he didn’t bring it up again. Mark took it as a cue that it was a sensitive topic for Yuta, which was why he never once asked or probed him about it. But thinking about it...Yuta’s dad...is the actual _Yakuza_ leader...right? “Your dad,” Mark replied, a little loss for words.

“He was terminally ill, and…” Yuta licked his lips that were beginning to dry a little. “He didn’t have much time left.”

Mark stopped moving and drew a sharp breath. _The passing of his dad would’ve meant that...Yuta would have no more kin left._ And Mark didn’t know how to handle that fact. “I see,” was the only thing Mark could say after a long pause of silence.

“He was very much still the same when I saw him,” Yuta smiled to himself. “He was still as cool as I remembered.”

“That’s nice,” Mark commented as he played with the black bracelet on Yuta’s wrist.

“And we talked a lot more about the future of the clan. It got really complicated, all the _yakuza_ stuff, you know,” Yuta bit his lips as he tried to think of what he could tell Mark and _how much_ he could tell him. “Our clan, the Nakamoto clan is...working on a new project…”

Mark focused on the older male, his curiosity building like a cat fixated upon its prey. “What new project? Is it dangerous?”

“Well, um, the outline of the project had been formulated, but we haven’t discussed the details yet,” Yuta cleared his throat. “And yes, the project is a little...dangerous…”

“That means it’s super dangerous isn’t it,” Mark narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. Yuta almost _never_ disclosed anything related to his clan to Mark. And for him to bring this up and even talk about the danger of this...Mark wasn’t insensible, something was wrong.

Yuta clenched his jaw so tightly that Mark could’ve seen the veins on his neck strained. “It’s a bit of a crisis this time,” Yuta announced. But then his soft lips stretched into a smile but didn't quite reach his dark eyes. They were lit with sadness, and the forced expression of the contrary on his mouth would have looked comical to Mark if it didn't make his heart feel heavy. For a few moments, the younger male stared at him, almost sure Yuta’s expression mirrored his. It broke his heart. “But have some faith in me Mark, everything is going to be okay.”

They held their eye contact a little longer than usual.

“Trust me, Mark.”

* * *

5 a.m. Jaehyun, Sungchan, and their mom finally reached the two graves of their family members. They had always been early for the death anniversary of their dad. An empty grave sat beside their dad’s. It belonged to Jung Jaeyoon, their oldest brother who had gone missing and very highly possible, dead. 

“Mom, are you cold? Do you need this muffler?” Jaehyun asked quietly as he took the basket of offerings from her. She shook her head and smiled up at him, reaching a frail hand up to fix his dark gray muffler.

“No, you wear it, I'm not cold." She sighed in bliss as she glanced back and forth between him and Sungchan. "Your dad would be proud to see how big you two have grown up to be.”

Jaehyun let out a low chuckle. "Yea, look at him, he's grown even taller than me now."

Before them was Sungchan, who had raced up to the familiar family grave that’s located deep into the cemetery. “Mom! Hyung!” He yelled from where he was, bouncing and fidgeting non-stop from the cold, and waved his arm. “It’s here! Come quick!

The air was heavy and humid, just walking through the cemetery he could feel the moisture clinging to his clothes. It felt thick as Jaehyun breathed it in, coating the inside of his throat.

Then, Sungchan stopped bouncing in the cold and squinted at the tombs. He squatted down and used the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the graves.

Two bouquets of yellow chrysanthemum sat neatly on the grave. Two _fresh_ bouquets.

“Sungchan, what’s wrong?” Jaehyun called out to his younger brother, who looked at him with huge deer eyes and a quizzical pout.

“Someone left dad and Jaeyoon-Hyung flowers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW! YES! Ok!
> 
> ((totally not making a pun with Mark's name, yea, totally not))
> 
> Whoever had guessed that they are brothers: Here are some flowers for you ✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
> 
> Comments, theories, kudos, love, support, and new readers are always welcome!! Much love to you!
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	21. THE BOY WITH THE DRAGON TATTOOS (PART IV)

“This child,” Sir Nakamoto interjected with a firm voice, gaining attention from the two of them. “He’s Osaki Shotaro.”

Yuta nodded once. Okay. Then so be it. Why was he telling him this?

“He’s six years old this year and he will be training with you guys at the training premise,” Sir Nakamoto raised his teacup up and sipped it slowly as if he was delaying whatever messages he had to relay next. “Toshiki and Seira Osaki were the best assassin-trained-informants we had in our clan,”

“And they both sacrificed themselves for the sake of the success of their last mission.”

Yuta felt roots growing under his feet as he stood frozen to the ground. First, his stomach twisted and his breathing changed. This was all too familiar to him. For a good few moments, Yuta had to look away to regain his composition. And then, he felt anger curled hot and unstoppable in his gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn him from the inside out. “Was it ever their duty to die for the clan?” A look of great bitterness swept across his face.

His father’s _Wakagashira_ stood out from the back with a disapproving frown. “Young Master is this how you talk to your fath-”

“I’m asking you! Was it ever their duty to die for the clan?!” Yuta’s voice was so loud, so thunderous. His eyes had warped into a miserable black. “He’s six! Does this make any sense to you?!”

The clan leader locked eyes with him from across the table, arms folded and hellishly expressionless. There was no softness in that gaze but Yuta had already braced himself for that. It wasn't just the cool grey eyeballs, it was the intelligence behind them that did it. In the gap between their eyes, a battle was fought and Yuta trounced him without a flinch.

“They took an oath,” Sir Nakamoto replied with clear determination. “So yes, It was _their_ duty to protect and die for _this_ clan.”

Yuta gritted his teeth so hard veins were starting to surface on his neck. Yuta knew damn well he was right, but why did he felt like he was wilting under the staring of his father’s black emotionless eyes? Everything from the way he held himself, to the way he spoke, to that look of unassailable confidence in his eye said he was right and Yuta was wrong. But he knew he wasn’t, and the worst part? Neither was his father.

Yuta looked down to the child who was sitting beside him, Shotaro was staring emptily at his grayed white shoes. There was no anger, no sadness, no joy or resentment. He never even appeared bored for sitting through the entire meeting Yuta had with his dad, that at least would have been something. For all the presence he brought to the room he might as well have been a store mannequin. The best Yuta could say for Shotaro was that he was compliant, almost robotic.

* * *

“Raise your arm higher,” Mr. Shimada ordered as he watched Yuta with a pair of hawk-eyes. Yuta followed what he said and straightened his arms. He fired a round of bullets into the silhouetted human target. It landed slightly away from the head of the target and Yuta glanced stealthily at his trainer.

Mr. Shimada narrowed his eyes at Yuta and then whacked Yuta across the back with the wooden cane in his hand. “Look at how you are standing! Straighten your back!” He barked. Yuta straightened his back and repositioned his arm. He aimed at the target again and this time, he finally got the bullet right in the bull’s eyes.

He hated every firearm training with his entire guts. Each recoil hurts his shoulder, elbow, wrist. Yuta massaged his shoulders a little before repositioning his arms and legs again, pointing the barrel forward and narrowing his eyes.

“Look at you, look at you, how are your arms always so low and how are you always slouching?” Mr. Shimada complained as he jabbed the cane into Yuta’s back, and the younger male stood up straighter with a tight grimace on his features, then the trainer slid his cane under his outstretched arm and lifted it up, bringing his arm up to where it supposed to be. “You’re already eleven by now, you shouldn’t be as bad as a six-year-old with guns.”

_Wait...what? Six-years-old? Shotaro?_ Yuta’s brows knitted together as he aimed forward, placing his finger on the trigger and prepared himself for the impact of the recoil, pushing all of those excessive thoughts and questions he had to the back of his mind. Questions like why are they giving Shotaro a firearm training at six when he had it at eight. And why the hell is a six-year-old so good at guns?

The training finally ended after hours of painful, grueling yelling and caning by Mr. Shimada. Yuta walked out of the training warehouse soaked in his own sweat, even the gym towel he brought with him was drenched. He walked like his limbs don’t really belong to him and each step was a negotiation rather than an order. Everything hurts. It took him close to 15 minutes just to get to the water fountain, even though it’s usually a seven-minute walk. 

“Tough day, huh?” Natsuki sat alone at the bench, tired-eyed as Yuta limped into the resting vicinity. He, too, was exhausted from the training.

“Tough every day,” Yuta commented shortly before he turned on the tap, pushing his face under the running water. He shook his head slightly before rubbing his face violently with a clean towel prepared for him. “Let’s go to the tree.”

The young _Wakagashira_ stood up and dusted his pants. “Mm-hm, let’s go.”

* * *

Yuta pressed the little bluish-purple bruises littered across his arms and scrunched his nose a little from the sting. Natsuki watched from the side and pushed his sleeves up to inspect his own arm too.

“Seems like Mr. Shimada haven’t been easy on you, huh?” He teased jokingly before jabbing his thumb into one of the black-and-blue marks.

“Ow! You ass!” Yuta cried before punching his fist into Natsuki’s own patch of black blues, who only laughed and pushed Yuta away from his side.

Yuta narrowed his eyes at the older male and shoved him back, though his strength was weak and all it did was elicit laughs from Natsuki. “Wait, wait wait, Yuta, listen,” Natsuki grabbed firmly onto Yuta’s hands to stop him from his rough-play.

Yuta stopped flouncing and stilled, in an attempt to listen to whatever Natsuki was asking him to.

_“Fuck off! You fucking motherless monster!”_

_“What you lookin’ at, huh?!”_

And then it sounded as if something heavy had hit the ground with a loud thud.

_“Look at us the wrong way again and I’ll break your nose, you motherfucker stray!”_

The two boys stared at each other with concerning frowns. “What was that?” Yuta asked rather rhetorically. “Who- You know what, let’s go check it out.”

The two of them sprinted towards where the shouts and hollerings could be heard. They went past down the multipurpose hall to the foyer, and finally, they reached the hidden alley behind the common armory. Three men stood hovering something, or rather, _someone,_ screaming, yelling, and throwing punches and kicks onto whoever they were crowding around.

Before Yuta could run in to stop one of the guys from landing another punch, Shotaro was seen stumbling backward and blood trickling from his nose before he fell to the ground. One of the men yanked him up by the collar, lifting him off ground completely, and aimed his fist directly on his nose.

Yuta’s eyes burst open with surprise momentarily before squinting at them through hardened eyes. His reflexes kicked in before his brain registered it. He lunged forward and head-butted the man holding onto Shotaro, and the six years old boy fell back to the muddy ground, his beady eyes stared into Yuta’s soul as if searching for a glimmer of hope that he would be his savior. 

Before the other two men could do anything, Natsuki had apprehended them using his incredibly tall height by smashing both of them right smack in the face into the ground, over in a bloody flash, using his knee to pin one of them down on his back, and his arm for another. 

Yuta’s opponent charged at him with a cry, eyes squeezing shut, and the Young Master managed to dodge to the side in one fluid motion. Using his arms, he landed a hard blow at the back of his head, the agile gesture causing the man to stumble almost falling flat on his face.

The man climbed up to his feet and was about to attack Yuta again before Yuta saw the man’s eyes open wide in surprise and recognition. “Young-young master- Why-why are you here?” The color quickly drained from his face.

"You guys are what? Seventeen? Eighteen?" Yuta took a step towards the older man, a vein almost popping in his temple and his fists tightly clenched. “And you guys find joy in beating a six years old up?!”

“Wait, wait, Young Master, please, please, let us explain,” One of the men under Natsuki’s arms cried out. “I swear we can explain.”

Natsuki pushed more force with his arms, eliciting more grunts and groans from the men beneath his knees. “If we’re going to sit here and listen to you explain your reasons about beating a six years old up, then we’re no better than you are.”

Yuta shot all of them one last look of disgust before hauling Shotaro up from the ground to his feet and pulled him behind his back. “Scram before I report you back to the lieutenants-in-charge,” Yuta gritted out. “Scram!”

The three men scrambled to their feet before fleeing the scene, their clothes all muddy and their faces bruised. Natsuki dusted his palms against each other and strode over to ruffle Shotaro’s hair gently. “Follow Yuta to the tree and wait for me over there, okay?” His voice was very, very soft. Yuta always knew he had soft spots for younger boys because they reminded him of his brother. “I’ll go sneak some medication and bandages for you.”

Yuta held Shotaro’s small hand in his and pulled him firmly along him to the biggest Cherry Blossom tree that stood in the corner of the back garden. He pointed to the shaded spot and dropped his hand. “Sit,” he ordered quietly. Shotaro kept his head low as he ambled towards the spot and sat cross-legged at the spot Yuta directed him to.

The Young Master dug his gray handkerchief out of his pocket and wet it with the water he had with him. He squatted before Shotaro and his eyes softened. “Lift your head up, Shotaro,” He sighed. “Your cheeks all busted.”

Shotaro tilted his head up and Yuta winced. The mud and grit had become enmeshed with raw pink flesh and was spotted with blood. He raised the handkerchief and dotted around the wound gently, trying to clean it off the mud and blood with minimal strength.

  
  


Shotaro focused on Yuta’s eyes, which were darting back and forth, shining in the sunlight. They were a deep, earthy brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. But there was something else in them, something glistening. Glistening like the morning dews that reflected the golden autumn leaves under the warmth of sunlight. They held secrets, the same way a pot holds layers of deep soil - cradling- because it is essential to keep the plant safe. The roots are held in place the same way his dark, liquidy eyes held so tightly onto his secrets.

Yuta leaned back to examine Shotaro’s cheeks, only to have caught the younger male smiling at him. Happiness flared in his eyes and for the first time since he had met him and Yuta blinked blankly at him. “Why’re you looking at me like this?”

“Because you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met after my parents,” His smile was one of happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens.

Shotaro had eyes as open and honest as any child, warmth, and safety...and it was the first time the Young Master had seen these many emotions and feelings in this six-year-old. At that moment Yuta knew who he needed to provide home, a place to find company when the cold winds blew. The Young Master's own eyes lightened and he smiled back. He tapped on Shotaro’s nose lightly and the kid scrunched his nose up as a reflex. “It’ll get a lot better, I know it sounds awful, and everyone hasn't been the nicest here, but I swear.” Yuta waggled his handkerchief open and commented casually. “It does get better.”

Shotaro’s grin broadened and his eyes curved into little crescents. “I know, Young Master.”

“You look really good when you smile,” Yuta commented with his lips quirked upwards into a half-smile. “Also you should just call me _Aniki,_ to Natsuki too. He’ll be ecstatic.”

Both of them sat in silence, the Autumn breeze is soft, calming, and peaceful. Yuta lifted Shotaro’s arms and pulled his sleeves up, searching for more injuries and bruises he obtained from the beatings.

“ _Aniki,_ can I ask you a question?” Shotaro sniffled a little from the cold. His clothes had been dampened by the mud.

Yuta didn’t look up, he noticed that on each of Shotaro’s arms there are great purple welts that will only deepen over the coming week. “Mm-hm, ask away.”

“You’re not Sir Nakamoto’s biological son, are you?”

Yuta looked up to meet Shotaro’s eyes, but too slowly to be normal. He looked like he had been holding his breath. “And why would you ask me about that? Rumors?”

“No, _Aniki,_ ” Shotaro’s black beady eyes held onto Yuta’s heaven-spun autumnal gaze. “I _know_ it.”

“You can’t go around saying things you can’t prove-”

“Both of you don’t share the same morals values,” Shotaro cut in. “From the way you stood up against him and the way you talked to him, it’s clear that you weren't raised in this family.”

“I could be his illegitimate son that had been brought up by someone else,” Yuta defended, the crease on his forehead surfaced.

“If you’re the illegitimate son of Sir Nakamoto, it wouldn’t have made sense for Natsuki- _Aniki_ to be your _Wakagashira,”_ Shotaro shrugged. “You’re the _only_ successor to the Nakamoto clan, they would **never** have gotten someone still in training to be your Second-in-command.”

“Wait-”

“Also, ‘Nakamoto’ had been an important last name for Sir Nakamoto, and it was clear that you aren’t his biological son, or,” Shotaro shoved his shirt back into his pants rather ungracefully. “He had another son that wasn’t you.”

Yuta blinked stupidly at Shotaro. He had no idea what the younger male had just said, not even a single word. “Either my brain cells have been randomized or you’re speaking an alien language."

“Sir Nakamoto’s full name is Ichikawa Nakamoto XI, which means, He is the eleventh holder of the Nakamoto name, and he said you were his _only_ successor,” Shotaro eyed him weirdly. “Usually the eldest son gets to be the next holder of the last name, but-”

"But I don’t..." Yuta muttered self-consciously as he looked to the ground with full realization. 

“Was my deduction accurate?” The edge of Shotaro’s lips was pushed up, scrunching his one eye up, making the black appear even darker. “That you’re the adopted son of Sir Nakamoto?”

Yuta’s eyes flattened, his brows creased, and his face tensed. “Do you go around analyzing people like this?”

The young kid forced a laugh. “Sorry, it’s a habit I developed for having two assassin-trained-informants as my parents,” he scrunched his nose up and sniffled. “I picked things up faster than most people, sometimes I just can’t help it.”

* * *

Natsuki was seen running across the back garden, his two hands filled with a first aid kit and a basket of snacks and fruits. Yuta scooted to the side to allow space for Natsuki. “What took you so long?” The Young Master complained, reaching over to take the items.

“I was sneaking out of the infirmary and the kitchen-maid saw me,” Natsuki kneeled right in front of Shotaro and leaned in closer to inspect the injury on his face. “And she told me to follow her and she’ll give me some snacks.”

Yuta hummed in response as he raided through the first aid kit looking for all the equipment and medications they will need for Shotaro’s face. Natsuki tilted Shotaro’s face up to disinfect his wound and frowned. “Shotaro, I know you are more than capable of fighting the three men back based on your skills,” he sighed and picked up another cotton ball. “But why didn’t you?”

“What-” Yuta’s eyes grew twice the original size as he gaped incredulously at Shotaro, who seemed extra nonchalantly with the whole ordeal. “How do I not know about this?”

“I let them,” Shotaro glanced over, the corners of his lips fighting a smile, his eyebrows slightly raised. “Look at this,” He lifted the hem of his shirt up to reveal a stiletto knife tucked professionally on his black pants. “My mom and dad always told me that, the first rule of being an informant is that you can never let your opponents know that you’re an informant.”

“They were going to beat you to death, I swear,” Yuta narrowed his eyes at him and crossed his arms.

“But you and Natsuki- _Aniki_ were there,” Shotaro broke into a boyish grin, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I’m okay!”

Yuta blinked a couple of times before shaking his head. “You need to learn to take care of yourself,” he muttered before passing Natsuki the medication.

“You’re already at the Silver tier right?” Natsuki applied the medication to Shotaro’s wound. “When are you going for the Gold tier? Next evaluation?”

The young kid leaned back and shook his head. “Nope,” he gave them a simple, purely happy smile. “I’m pursuing something else.”

The two older males snapped their heads toward the six-year-old, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. “What?”

“Dancing.”

* * *

Shotaro had lied to the two of them. But it was the first and the last time.

When he saw how Yuta had stood up for him and his parents right in front of the leader of a _Yakuza_ clan, and how he fought so aggressively for someone, a nobody, _like him,_ and the way Yuta chose to clean and bandage his wounds for him even when he was of a higher status than he will ever be...

He already knew who he wanted to serve, and it’s not Sir Ichikawa Nakamoto XI but the Young Master Yuta Nakamoto.

And he won’t get his Gold-tier ring and graduate from the training ground and work for the Clan leader. He was going to wait for Yuta to finish his training and complete his tiers. He’s going to graduate with Yuta so he could work _for_ and _under_ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello! Sorry, I'm late! 
> 
> ((sorry I was having too much fun outside I almost forgot to post))
> 
> ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc) Comments, theories, kudos, love, support, and new readers are always welcome!! Much love to you!
> 
> Also, this is a stiletto knife if you're curious: https://edgeimport.com/whit-classic-stiletto-knife-whit-a-10/
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	22. THE FAVOUR

Jaehyun tightened the brown apron around his waist and looked at the mirror. His hair was lazily ruffled, the brown tips haphazardly pushed so they intertwined into beautiful chaos. The young waiter scrunched his nose up at his own reflection before closing the door to his locker and pulling the key out. He had opted to take up the morning shift for his cafe as he had to wake up extra early for his dad’s death anniversary anyway.

He pushed out all of the cleaning equipment to the dining area and stretched his tired and cold body. The cold morning had been so dark, and the lack of sunlight adds on to the harsh temperature in the small cafe. He supposed the heater had to take some time to warm the whole room up. 

The dining room was dimly lit with the fancy photo frames and classy decorations that hung on the mute colored walls like earrings. The handle of the mop was almost too chilling to touch, but Jaehyun forced himself to ignore the biting pain in his palm and continued through the mopping of the cafe. As he walked he suddenly became aware of the gloomy shadow that was looming outside the cafe, blocking out a part of the streetlight that was shone into the room. 

He wrinkled his nose and looked up from where he was. A stranger, dressed in all-black suits and neat slicked back hair, loitering outside the glass door. When said stranger realized Jaehyun had noticed him, he strode up closer and waved a little, coffee cups in both hands. The waiter raised his brows a little before frowning. He rested the mop against one table and sped walked to the entrance. 

“Good morning sir,” Jaehyun greeted through the tiny gap, smiling politely as he rubbed his freezing hands together, “anything...um...anything I can help you with?”

The stranger smiled back softly. “Hey, oh yea, um, I just- I just want to check with you if the cafe is open?” He glanced down to his feet, a little flustered. “I was trying my luck to see if I could get breakfast, you know, before work.”

Jaehyun dressed his lips into a firm line before glancing at his watch. “Well, it’s only 6:45, and the cafe won’t be opened till 7:30…” He glanced out of the window and realized how much those glasses had fogged up from the temperature. It wasn't a pleasant cold. The stranger’s nose was red. “Well, I suppose you can come in here for a sit.”

Jaehyun squatted down to unlock the glass door and pulled it open for the suited man. “Give me a while, I’ll make you something once I’m done cleaning the floor.” He muttered. Now that he had seen him up close, the stranger was almost as tall as he is, maybe even slightly taller. And his brown eyes almost too close to black, glistening silver in the dark, sharp with intelligence.

“Thank you,” The man nodded with a charming smile. “I’ll just take a seat over there- oh- here, the barista from Starbucks gave me an extra coffee because they got my order wrong.”

He slid the coffee across the table nearer to Jaehyung. “Is coffee okay?”

“Are you sure?”Jaehyun blinked owlishly at him. The stranger simply nodded and brought his own coffee to his lips. Jaehyun then clasped the cup between his hands, using the heat from the coffee to warm his hands. “Thank you…May I...um, know your name please?”

The man flashed him a charming grin. “I’m Natsuki, nice to meet you.”

* * *

Jaehyun parked the cleaning supplies back into the cabinet and washed his hands. After drying his hands, he jumped right into preparing breakfast for Natsuki, who had been sitting at the corner of the store, staring at the photographs hung on the wall. Jaehyun’s eyes flickered up and down the open fridge and sighed.

  
  


“Uh, Natsuki,” Jaehyun called out from the kitchen window that can be seen from the dining area. Natsuki snapped his head to look at him. “Is something simple okay? The ingredients are usually delivered 20 minutes later.”

“Yea, anything is fine! Thanks!” 

Jaehyun took out the few things they had in the fridge and threw a few slices of bread into the toaster. He skillfully spread the avocado over the toast and sprinkled tomato on top as if it were cake decorations. He also made hash browns, eggs and ham, and packed all of them into those cute lunch boxes they used for takeaways.

“Here, avocado toasts,” Jaehyun was smiling and his dimples crinkled. Natsuki’s heartache was like a wolf eating at his chest, tearing it's way to his trembling heart. He almost struggled to breathe as he watched Jaehyun pull a chair out to take a seat across him. _Still the same smile._

“You’re not from around, are you?” Jaehyun asked with an amused smile. His teeth are perfectly aligned. The warm glow his happiness gave. His smile was a ray of sunshine and Natsuki felt like he could die at that moment knowing he had defended Jaehyun and his smile.

Natsuki shook his head before taking a sip of his coffee. “No, I’m from Osaka, Japan,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m here on a business trip.”

“You speak really good Korean,” Jaehyun remarked. “I would have mistaken you as a Korean if you hadn't told me your name.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Natsuki chuckled as he pressed a fist to his lips. “Alright, I gotta leave soon, how much is the toast?”

The younger male stood up too. “It’s okay, take it as my treat,” he pushed the chair back underneath the table. “In return for the coffee.”

Natsuki shook his head and pulled out a stack of cash and shoved them in Jaehyun’s hands. His eyes widened in surprise and he stared at Natsuki for a bit without blinking.

“Wait- it’s _really_ too much-” Jaehyun tried to give Natsuki the money back only to be stopped and turned down by the latter.

“Take that as my tip for you for your amazing service,” Natsuki laughed heartily. “Hope to see you soon, Jaehyun.”

* * *

9:30 a.m. Mark sniffled a little from the cold and snuggled deeper into Yuta’s navy blue coat that he had borrowed from his closet. Yuta always had good style and he didn’t really seem to mind Mark wearing his clothes so there’s that. 

Yuta strode into the dining room in full black suits, his hair slicked backward and a few messy strands of hair fell over his eyes, an expensive golden pendant around his neck. He watched Mark basked in the sunlight shone through the window while sinking comfortably into his black sweater and navy blue coat. Yuta walked over and ruffled his hair. “Cold? Do you want me to turn the heater up?”

Mark looked up to him, smiled, and shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

The young master sauntered up to the Shoji screens and pushed them wide open, allowing more sunlight into the room. The maids looked surprised for a good while as this was never the job for their young master.

“Hyung, did you fight with Johnny-Hyung?” Mark eyed him boldly, and it honestly made Yuta recoiled a little with his interrogative stare.

“He’s the reason why you’re-”

“No, how can we blame him for that?” Mark cut him off with his brows knitted in a frown. “If we’re blaming him for bringing me to the club, then I should be blamed for wandering around by myself, right?”

The few maids and men serving and guarding the room shot each other looks of amazement. Apart from Sir Nakamoto, no one had been daring enough to speak against Yuta, let alone cutting him off, but here Mark was, doing all the things other people didn’t dare to do. Their young master would’ve killed him off by now- Yuta kneeled down beside Mark and held his face between his hands. He pouted cutely with his brown eyes sparkling a little.

“Alright, alright, let’s call it a truce,” Yuta surrendered. “I’m not going to blame Johnny-Hyung and no one can blame you, okay?”

The few employees of the Nakamoto Manor broke into surprise and astonishment before amused grins crept up to their faces, lowering their faces so as to hide their expressions.

“You’re going to text him right?” Mark gave him a pointed look. “I’ll call him and Lucas later.

“Yes, yes, I will,” He muttered before planting a kiss on Mark’s forehead.

Yuta was taking a seat across Mark when Natsuki strode into the room with a paper bag. “Good morning, Young Master, good morning Mark, want some Avocado toasts?”

Yuta studied his _Wakagashira_ for a good minute. It was easy for Yuta to deduce where he had been. The takeaway bag with the cafe logo Jaehyun worked in, his black suit and slicked-black hair that seemed a little damp, and a rare cheerful spirit...he must’ve visited his younger brother…

Natsuki didn’t wait for them to reply, he just placed it on the table anyway. “Young Master, our meeting with Mr. Kawamura is at 12:30, we’ll leave at 10:15?”

Yuta nodded his head and eyed Natsuki suspiciously. “Okay.” He replied. He picked up his cup, averted his eyes somewhere else, and took a sip, but both Natsuki and Yuta knew that the Young Master wouldn’t be keeping his mouth shut on the questioning later.

“Oh! This cafe! We went there before, right, Hyung?” Mark commented half-heartedly as he reached for the bag, totally unaware of the unspoken tension between his boyfriend and his _Wakagashira._

* * *

Yuta walked Mark over to the car that was appointed to send him back, one hand on his back. Mark shuddered in the cold and subconsciously stuck himself closer to Yuta, who moved his arms down to snake its way around Mark’s waist and pulled him closer to him. 

“It’s really cold today,” Yuta rubbed Mark’s arms. “Wear more, stay warm, okay?”

“Mmhm, I will,” Mark nodded and pulled the coat closer to his neck. “I’ll return you the coat when I see you next time.”

“Keep it, you look good in it,” Yuta smiled warmly as he watched Mark climb into the backseat, closing the car door once he was seated in it. Yuta waved to him. “Bye, Mark, text me when you reached home safely.”

Mark poked his head out of the opened window. “Aight, bye, take care!” He waved.

Yuta stood by the side and watched the black car driving out of the compound before shooting Natsuki a look, who in return, bowed back pretentiously with a smile. “Shall we go? Young Master?” His _Wakagashira_ asked, motioning Yuta to the dark blue Tesla Model 3 parked a few feet away from them. 

Yuta anchored his attention on Natsuki, who only displayed an enigmatic smile since he had gotten into the backseat beside Yuta. “So, where’d you go?” Yuta leaned back into his seat, blinking at his friend with feigned innocence.

“I went to the grave, for my father’s death anniversary,” Natsuki began, looking straight and avoiding Yuta’s interrogative gaze. “And, yea…”

Yuta patted from Natsuki’s shoulder down his arm, the fabric was still a little moist from the cold morning mist. He raised his eyebrows and he smiled smugly at Natsuki. “And where did you go afterward?” Yuta tilted his head with the same playful smile. “I’m not Shotaro but...I’m not as stupid as you imagined me to be, okay?”

“Hey, hey, hey, I never thought or imagined you to be stupid, alright?” Natsuki raised his hands up and leaned back defensively. Then he looked down to his laps and played with his fingers. “I just...went to my younger brother’s cafe afterward...and yea, I bought him coffee and he made me toasts…”

The younger male propped his chin up with his hand that rested on his thigh. “And...how were they? How’s your mom? And your brothers? You met them right?”

“I only saw them from afar, my mom was, well, almost the same as I remembered, but she had grown really old,” Natsuki chuckled rather sorrowfully “And my youngest brother, you’ll never believe it, he’s _massive._ Like insanely tall, I think he’s almost as tall as me.”

“Height runs in the genes I guess,” Yuta muttered jokingly.

“And yea, I met Jaehyun,” Natsuki took a deep breath as if to adjust his own emotions. “He had grown up really well, really really well...” Slow desolate tears ran from his unblinking eyes and dropped steadily into his suit jackets. He sniffled and looked out to the window for a while. “You know, I never ever regret the decision I made 23 years ago, I really don’t.”

Yuta placed a hand over Natsuki’s one and patted it rhythmically, hoping that the warmth of his hand could provide him some comfort. “I’m sure he’s grateful too.”

* * *

“Good morning, Mr. Nakamoto, my boss, has been waiting for you at the fifth floor, allow me,” The young butler in suits greeted Yuta and his men at the entrance of the Kawamura factory located in a rural industrial area of YongPyong, almost 2.5 hours drive from Nakamoto Manor.

Yuta nodded coldly as he fixed his jacket and stood straighter. He held his head high. They went a few floors up into the factory with a few guards who acted as their escorts. Yuta was sandwiched between Natsuki and his _Shategashira_ , who was always more tense and careful whenever they were in someone else's territory. 

They were brought to an exceptionally retrogressively lavish room, which was very obviously the room where the clan leader was in. Two other guards bowed to Yuta and his men before pulling both wooden panels of the door open and allowing them to step through. The room was mostly covered in gray and white old-world art, and it reeks of incense.

"Good afternoon, Sir Kawamura," Yuta greeted as he stood right beside the clan leader, who was in a blue and black set of _Haori Hakama,_ traditional kimono for formal and special occasions his _Wakagashira, Shartegashira,_ and all the other underbosses and soldiers stood behind him and bowed politely. 

Sir Kawamura didn’t look at Yuta when he pointed to the _zaisu_ floor chair across the low table. “Sit,” he commanded before taking another puff from his tobacco pipe. 

Yuta nodded for the rest of his men to leave the room, leaving except Natsuki and his _Shategashira,_ his lieutenant, with him in the room. He then marched over to the seat across Sir Kawamura and sat down dexterously. Yuta grabbed onto the ceramic teapot with both hands respectfully and took the initiative to refill the clan leader’s teacup.

“How was Ichikawa Nakamoto?” Sir Kawamura asked gruffly, picking up the filled teacup to his lips.

Yuta bowed politely. “He had been well, thank you for your concern,” he smiled wistfully. “How was your health, Sir Kawamura?”

“Same old,” The clan leader replied simply in a no-nonsense manner. He put the cup down rather forcefully and stared fixedly at Yuta. “Now, I need to know why we’re having this meeting.”

Yuta wasn’t going to rush this. He knew for this meeting to go the way he wanted it to, he would have to be confident. Any sign of desperation or cowardice could be the reason for his failure. He raised his own cups to his mouth with calculated unhurried speed. Then, he leveled a glowering gaze on Sir Kawamura.

“I told you, I needed your help against the _Tsuchigumo._ ”

The clan leader narrowed his eyes to crinkled slits. “You knew the Kawamura clan wouldn’t go against the _Tsuchigumo,”_ Yuta stole a glance at Sir Kawamura’s hands that were balled up in a fist, shaking slightly. His plan had worked. “They’re a rising power.”

The Young Master tilted his head a little backward and studied the old clan leader with piercing scrutiny, a wry smile played on his lips. He reached into his suit pocket and took out the black jewelry box with the bright yellow “KM” insignia that his dad had given him. He placed it on the table and pushed it towards Sir Kawamura, who didn’t only look stiff and uncomfortable, but he was angry, _furious,_ and Yuta could tell by the way his hands were shaking.

“Familiar?” Yuta asked satirically. He rested his hands on his laps as he leaned back to the backrest. “I know you haven’t forgotten this but I’ll reiterate it again.”

Yuta cleared his throat before continuing. “More than 30 years ago, my dad, Sir Ichikawa Nakamoto XI, took a bullet for you for the _Yakuza_ clan battles,” He reached over and opened the box, revealing the necklace with an empty bullet shell and a folded piece of paper. “Back then, you wrote this letter as a form of contract between you and my dad.”

He paused for a while to study the clan leader, who looked relatively expressionless except for the veins bulging out of his head. “And you promised him a favor, didn’t you.”

The clan leader breathed in rather slowly as if to control his temper. “I did,” he replied, ungluing his eyes from Yuta.

“Tell me, how do you want the Kawamura clan to assist you?”

“Provide us with men. And explosives.”

* * *

Mark didn’t go back to his dormitory. He had given Lucas a call and his roommate had been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning and had passed out in the club for overconsumption of alcohol. Mark winced and told Lucas that he will be going to the hospital to look for him and they could go back to the school together if he could be discharged.

“Mr. Lee, we can send both of you back to school,” Kentaro, his designated driver, said to him. Mark shook his head.

“No, it’s okay, Kentaro-Hyung, we can take the cab from the hospital.”

“Sending you back to school safely is part of my job, Mr. Lee, allow me,” Kentaro insisted.

The younger male rubbed his nape shyly. “Oh, alright then, if it’s not too much work for you.”

Mark walked side-by-side with Kentaro to the counter table and checked for Lucas’s room number. As they were walking towards the wardroom, a man with a familiar figure and facial features paced down the hospital hallway.

“Shotaro!” Mark exclaimed. The younger male, dressed in all black and leather jacket, looked up with astonishment on his face. He waved back.

“Hey, Mark-Hyung!” His eyes darted briefly to Kentaro who stood obediently behind before right back at Mark.

“Oh, hey! Why’re you here? Are you injured?” Mark subconsciously grabbed onto the younger’s arm, trying to check his body for injuries.

Shotaro smiled radiantly back at him. “Don’t worry, I accidentally hurt my arm practicing for dance, I’m okay, really.” He pulled his sleeves up his arm to reveal the white cast underneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NATSUKI MET JAEHYUN!!!!
> 
> Things are all slowly coming together, right? (o´▽`o)ﾉ 
> 
> Leave me a comment! I promise I'll reply to you as soon as possible! ♡＾▽＾♡
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	23. THE BOY WITH THE DRAGON TATTOOS (PART V)

Shotaro smiled at Yuta with his crescent eyes, legs swinging as he sat on the abandoned table at the back of the empty room located right at the end of the corridor connected to the grand hall used for the rank evaluation. “You’ll do fine, I saw how you trained yesterday,” he tilted his head and blinked endearingly at his Young Master, who had been pacing around the room, nervous as hell. “You’re good at what you do, have some trust in yourself.”

Yuta was now 16, and Shotaro 11, and he had been preparing for years for his final rank evaluation. He _needed_ to get into the gold tier before he turned 18, so he could enter the headquarter of the Nakamoto Clan to start working for his father. Yuta chugged down the fourth bottle of water to calm his nerves. “I might fail this time again,” He breathed heavily and planted the empty bottle on the table. “Arghhh…” Yuta whined and buried his face into his hands. “I can’t do this…”

Natsuki staggered into the room in black singlets, dripping with sweat, a gray towel slung over his neck. “Water,” he coughed heavily, gasping for air. “Give me water.”

“Catch!” Shotaro called out, and he threw a new bottle of water across the room, Natsuki caught it skillfully.

“Thanks,” Natsuki heaved, rubbing his aching chest after he guzzled down the entire bottle of ice-cold water. He jabbed his fingers towards the hall. “Yuta, you’re right after 3 people.”

A Cheshire grin lit up on Yuta’s face like a sallow candle in a dirty paper lamp. He jabbed his slender fingers into Natsuki’s side, eliciting a yowl from the older male. “You got it? Gold tier?” Yuta continued to prode him.

“Ow- Why did you have to poke me-” Natsuki used his last ounce to wrestle Yuta off. “Yea, yea, yea, I got it!”

Yuta’s eyes crinkled into a dazzling curve and a deep curve surface on his lips. He punched his _Wakagashira_ on his arm rather heavily. “Congratulations.”

Natsuki ruffled Yuta’s hair and messed them up excessively. “You’ll do fine too, you’ve been working so hard for it too.”

Yuta dusted his dark gray hoodie and reached his hand up to his chest to calm his beating heart, and as he did so the ticking from the waiting room wall clock seemed to get louder, counting down to his final moment of evaluation. He felt his insides grow warm in an unpleasant way and his stomach, though empty, writhed as if struggling with a rich meal. When the clan secretary turned from her monitor to call "Nakamoto Yuta" he jumped. This was it, evaluation time.

The walk to the grand hall seemed long and non-existent at the same time, almost like part of him wasn't really there. He stood in front of the four judges and his father who had taken his time off specifically to speculate his final evaluation. “Good morning, Mr. Shimura, Mr. Ida, Mr. Mayumi, Mr. Takahashi...and Sir Nakamoto,” he swallowed and paced his breathing. “I’m Nakamoto Yuta, and I’m ready for the evaluation.”

The clan leader leaned back into his seats and crossed his arms across his chest. He nodded. “Get started then.”

* * *

Salty droplets flow down Yuta’s face like soft summer rain, dripping onto the concrete as he sits to regain his breath. His perspiration spread and stick sweat soaked his hoodie. He panted as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, staring intensely at the panel judges, waiting for the announcement for his evaluation.

“Nakamoto Yuta,” The clan leader glued his eyes on the papers in his hands. “Full points for firearms tactics and training knowledge, 90 points for martial arts, and 95 points for hand-to-hand combat.”

He dropped the papers on the table and smiled at Yuta, it was one of those half-smiles that was as warm as hour old coffee...it wasn’t the tender or the compassionate kind that he had shown Yuta before...but this time... it was a smile of...approval.

“Nakamoto Yuta, Gold-tier.”

Yuta hardly dared believe his ears, “Gold- gold tier?”

“Young master, we’ll prepare the ring for you by next week,” The clan secretary bowed and motioned him towards the exit. Yuta bowed to the four judges and his father.

“Thank you.”

The moment Yuta stepped out of the room and the door closed, he felt like every fiber of his being was vibrating with anticipation. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins. His hands trembled and his eyes were wide. “Holy shit, I did it,” he whispered.

_“Nakamoto Yuta, Gold-tier,_ ” his father’s voice coursed through his brain again and then reality hit him one more time. “I did it!” He pumped his fist into the air and his legs took off. 

He bolted down the corridor like an Olympic champion at the start gun, towel clutched tightly in his sweaty hand. He quickened his pace to an all-out sprint. The slapping noise of his old, and torn sports shoes resonated around the majestic walls of the housing estate with a clanging echo.

He burst through the door, “Gold-tier! I got it!”

“Good job! Congrats on the Gold!” Natsuki laughed heartily and leaped off the table he was seated on to give Yuta an affectionate hug, who in turn tried to jokingly sucker-punch him on the arm but failed miserably because he was too tired to.

Shotaro's giggle softened the room as if his gentle sound could make the lamplight more golden and summer burn warmer. Yuta and Natsuki dislocated from each other’s violence and turned to look at him. Yuta’s eyes softened to a sensitive set of brown eyes.

“And Shotaro? How about you?” He pressed his lips into a firm line and placed an adoring hand on the younger’s head. “When are you taking your final evaluation test?”

“We’ll see,” nets of wrinkles at the corners of Shotaro’s eyes. “Maybe next year?”

“We both know you’ll long already be a Gold-tier member of the Nakamoto clan by now,” Natsuki said with both of his hands on his hips. “And yet you took a long ass gap to do what? Dancing?”

“I made that choice and I don’t regret it,” Shotaro shrugged and flashed them a shameless smile. “Also, dancing is fun, you guys should try sometime.”

* * *

The huge A2 paper before them showed at least 20 to 30 insignias and names of other clans. Yuta traced his fingers down the different designs and blinked at his father’s _Wakagashira,_ who told them he will be their teacher for the day. Shotaro took his shoes off and sat cross-legged on the chair, seemingly making himself comfortable for class while Natsuki fixed his seating posture and sat straighter. Yuta scowled at them.

“Mr. Fukuyama, it’s our rest day today, why are we having additional classes?” Yuta asked with an annoyed expression, crossing his arms across his chest and puffed out his cheeks. “It’s Sunday!”

“Yes, because I too, would like to work on a Sunday,” Mr. Fukuyama replied sarcastically, his eyebrows arched. “If not for your dad’s order I would’ve been in my room catching up on my animes, you little brats.”

Mr. Fukuyama straightened his suit jackets and held up an identical piece of paper in front of them. He cleared his throat. “Alright, we’re going to identify some of these insignias of other clans, is there any that you recognized?”

Yuta clucked his tongue and picked the paper up. He pointed to his own family insignia. “This one, Golden Kanji, Nakamoto Clan,” he beamed and looked confidently at the old _Wakagashira._ “Specialised in weaponry production and international business trading.”

Mr. Fukuyama frowned and thumped his rolled-up A2 paper against the crown of Yuta’s head. “That’s the basic you little brat, you **should** know that as the Young master of the clan,” he dragged his hawkish gaze to the other two kids. “How about you two?”

“Yellow ‘KM’ insignia! I saw my parents’ contract papers with them,” Shotaro flashed all of them a winsome smile. “They do explosive tradings, TNTs...whatever you call them.”

“Good, what else do you know about them?”

“They are also working closely with the Nakamoto clan in terms of Arms trafficking because they produce the ammunition for our firearms,” Shotaro beamed up the teacher with easy confidence. “I also heard from my parents that Sir Kawamura and Sir Nakamoto may have dated befo-”

“Alright, alright, enough, enough!” Mr. Fukuyama barked and leaped forward to slam a hand against Shotaro’s mouth to shut him up, the other two older boys sniggering and cackling. “Next, next, anyone else?”

“The _Tsuchigumo,_ black spider insignia,” Natsuki tapped on the black spider that clung onto the page menacingly at the corner of the paper. “Specialised in human, children, and organ trafficking.”

“Very good,” The teacher nodded and half-sat on the table behind him. “The _Tsuchigumo_ had always been the dirtiest and the worst of all the _Yakuza_ clans, do you know why?”

“Do we need to answer that? They traffic humans!” Yuta raised his arms in exasperation as he glared at the man in front of him. “They’re assholes, end of story!”

Mr. Fukuyama sighed and tapped on Yuta’s table to motion him to calm down. “Well, most of the _Yakuza_ clans have both ethical overground and underground businesses that they run, for us, we do international trading business. But for the _Tsuchigumo,_ they only have their underground business and the worst of all?”

He paused to take a sip of water. “They have ginormous connections to mafia groups all over the world, like Spain, Italy, and America, which is why the Japanese government isn't doing anything with them.”

Yuta crossed his arms bitterly. “I’ll bring them down myself.”

“Tsk, drop that,” The old _Wakagashira_ glared at him. “Your dad saved you from them, the best you could do is to live well and serve the clan to the best of your ability.”

Shotaro pursed his lips and raised his arm. “Mr. Fukuyama, can I ask you a question?”

“Speak.”

“What if it’s the _Tsuchigumo_ that wants to attack us?”

Mr. Fukuyama’s expressions turned hard as nails. “The...maybe by then…we either get destroyed by then or...” His eyes strayed to the ground. “We bring them down with us.”

* * *

Pressed black trousers, black polished shoes, white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, golden insignia pinned to his collar, and gold tier ring on his middle finger. His casually-styled hair was midnight black and his eyes were honey brown, framed by graceful brows. His skin was tanned. He had prominent cheekbones and a well-defined chin and nose. The maids and servants all let out gasps of surprise as he walked down the corridor to the ballroom, escorted by his _Wakagashira,_ assassin-trained-informant, and a few of the guards and men that now worked under him.

Yuta stood outside the door and halted to a stop. He looked to the guards stationed by the door and leaned in closer to them. “Is Sir Nakamoto inside already?”

“Yes, Young Master, he’s inside already,” One of them bowed to him.

“Is he...is he in a good mood these few days?”

The guard blinked at him, rather blankly. His shoulders raised and dropped. “These few days? I...I don’t know, Young master, um...he seems fine?” He grimaced.

Natsuki dragged Yuta back to his original standing position and glared at him. “What are you scheming?”

“Me? Scheming? Pfft, please,” Yuta rolled his eyes and feigned ignorance, waving his _Wakagashira_ off. “I’m just asking a general question.”

The two guards pulled the huge doors open and he sauntered in, feeling proud and confident. Yuta smiled a billion dollar smile which was almost blinding. His well-styled tousled black hair frolicked as he marched in, the lights seemed to dim as his glowing presence diminished them. This 18 years old boy was like a living angel, without wings and with a halo that was concealed from sight. All of the event participants stuck to the sides of the hallway as he strutted marvelously down the middle. 

In amidst the crowd that his father had invited to attend his birthday party, he spotted his father almost immediately. Dark black shiny hair slicked to the back, golden rimmed glasses on his nose, iron-pressed suits, and polished shoes. Sir Nakamoto waved him over with a proud smile. Yuta stared at his father for a bit. His bone structure was fine and perfectly symmetrical, and no matter how many times and how long Yuta had come to know this man, it still marveled him. Sir Nakamoto was a manly man, and as he aged he became all the more striking, like a silver-fox.

“Happy 18th Birthday, Yuta,” The clan leader patted Yuta on the back with a slight smile. Then he noticed how Yuta had been staring at him with a judgemental expression. He frowned. “Why’re looking at me like this? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, not really,” Yuta’s stare traveled with unnerving thoroughness down his father, and then back at his face. “But seriously though, you're pretty good-looking yourself, why aren’t you married or dating by now, dad?”

It took him a while to regain from surprise because Sir Nakamoto formed an “O” with his mouth before leaning back and burst out laughing uproariously. It was probably the first and the last time Yuta had seen his dad forgot his manners.

“Is this what they taught you at the training ground?” Sir Nakamoto’s lips stretch wider into a gaping grin and his eyebrows arch for the sky. “Asking people all these embarrassing and weird questions?”

Yuta shamelessly pointed to his father’s _Wakagashira_ who stood a few feet behind his dad. “Mr. Fukuyama, he taught me that, blame him,” He grinned mischievously. And when Mr. Fukuyama pretended to come for Yuta, the Young Master simply ducked behind his father and stuck his tongue out playfully.

“Alright, alright, stop fooling around, where are your manners,” Sir Nakamoto reprimanded teasingly as he patted Yuta’s shoulders. “Aren’t you curious about what present I got for you?” 

Yuta crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not really.”

“Tsk,” Sir Nakamoto glared at him jokingly before pulling out a silver and gold box from within his shirt jacket. “Here, open it.”

It was a car key. Yuta glanced upward, his mouth pursed but slightly open and loose.

“It’s a yellow Lamborghini,” The corner of Sir Nakamoto’s lips curved upwards, his eyes sparkled and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Happy 18th Birthday, Yuta.”

* * *

Stealthily he began to step out of his room. He stood by the climbing rose of the staircase linking up to the next floor, listening. He heard voices upstairs. Perhaps the soldiers on duty would be downstairs. He listened intently. Voices were upstairs only. He quietly opened the door. The room was empty. He crossed to the hall. At the foot of the stairs he could hear the voice of the Clan doctor. He stepped a foot out to the connecting corridor when-

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Yuta yelped in surprised and dropped to the floor clutching his heart that was obviously beating too fast for his own good. He whirled his head around just to see Natsuki standing behind him, both his arms crossed in a no-nonsense-manner. Yuta stared at him with eyes as wide as saucepans.

“I’m- I’m looking for Shotaro! Yea, Shotaro!”

“Cut that crap, Shotaro is out for a mission in the morning and he has dancing lessons in the afternoon,” Natsuki strode forward and held his hands out to the teenage boy on the floor. Yuta grabbed onto it and Natsuki hauled him up to his feet. “You’ve been scheming something, aren’t you?”

Yuta laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged and jabbed his thumb in the direction of his room. “I’m going back to read.”

Before he could take a step forward, Natsuki yanked him back by the hood on his hoodie. “You’re avoiding me, aren’t you?”

“Wha-what? No! I’m-”

“Then you should continue where you’re going, am I wrong?” Natsuki stood a good head taller than Yuta, and despite being the young master’s _Wakagashira,_ he never backed down when it came to things he needed to know.

Yuta fiddled with his fingers before staring back straight at Natsuki. “Fine, follow me then, I’m going to find my father” he took a deep breath. “But you have to promise me something.”

“What?”

“You can’t meddle in with whatever I’m going to say or do.”

“What?”

“Promise me.”

“Okay, fine, I promise you.”

* * *

“What is the matter? Is the room not good enough? Or are you not used to living in the headquarter” Sir Nakamoto asked, though everyone in the room could tell it was a feigned concern. He was never one to spoil Yuta with worriments. 

“Neither of those,” Yuta puffed his chests out and stood straighter as if he was garnering all of the courage he had left in his body.

“Then what?”

“I want to go to Korea.” 

Natsuki shot Yuta a hard look from the back.

Sir Nakamoto chuckled lightly. “Yea, sure, have fun,” he picked up his pen and went back to doing whatever he was doing prior. “It’s good to take a few days off to travel around, I’m sure Natsuki can take care of all the logistics, right?”

“No!” Yuta yelled. “I mean- I mean like, I want to stay and live in Korea!”

The pen in Sir Nakamoto fell and it dropped onto the glass table with a hard thud. It took him a while before he looked up at Yuta, his gaze feeling like an act of violence. “What?”

“Dad,” Yuta clenched his fist so tightly there were little nail-shaped marks embedded into his palms. “Let me take control of the Korea faction.”

“No,” Sir Nakamoto answered a little too quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, not me simping over Yuta's non-existential yakuza clan leader dad :]
> 
> Comments very much appreciated!
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	24. THEY’RE ALL GONE

The three of them alighted from the car Kentaro was driving. Mark had practically forced Shotaro to go back to the school with him and Lucas despite the younger male rejecting and claiming that he was physically fit to do so himself. Of course, Mark disagreed.

“You’re injured, let us walk you back to your room,” Lucas slung an arm over Shotaro and supported him by the arm. 

Mark was following closely behind them and punched Lucas lightly on the back with a slight frown. “You’re a patient yourself, go back to the room, I’ll walk him back.”

“Let me live, Mark,” Lucas rolled his eyes and shrugged dramatically. “I’m as healthy as a jungle lion.”

Before Mark could argue, the younger male turned to both of them, and a bright smile lit up his fine eyes. “I’m fine, it’s just a few... grazes on my arm.”

Shotaro...well, it was obvious that he didn’t get his injuries from dance practice. Last night when Yuta had managed to find Mark, he was immediately notified and alerted by the Nakamoto soldiers guarding the school Mark attended that the school was mobbed with 75 men from the _Tsuchigumo, Shimura,_ and _Igarashi_ clans. He went back to the school compound to support the Nakamoto men, managing to drag and distract almost all of them to the back alley right after he knew Mark was in safe hands.

He was usually careful, but at that point in time he was greatly outnumbered and a scoundrel's blade cut in jagged ugly lines into his arm. When the fight was over, the Nakamura clan _barely_ holding it together, Shotaro realized there were even some cuts that were fresh. Still puffy, red, and bloody.

* * *

7:55 A.M.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap…Wait- Huh? Huh._ Yuta blinked down at the pile of opened letters from Haru that he had been tapping on. How long had he been tapping his pen? And why did it take him so long to realize he had adopted this pen tapping habit from his father?

The young cleaning maid positioned her trolley against the wall in the corridor, found the right key, and let herself into the study room on the third floor. Yuta was resting on the edge of the study table, his upper body was not dressed and his torso was naked, a book in his hand. He slowly raised his head and took his own sweet time to look at her.

“Young- young master, sorry, I didn’t know- you’re in here,” The maid stuttered with his eyes wide in shock. “Sorry, I’ll leave immediately!”

“No, it’s okay, I’m leaving for the meeting soon,” Yuta stopped her as he hopped down from the table. He grabbed the white dress shirt that was slung over the dark brown sofa and threw it on. “Can you bring these letters to my room?”

“Oh! Y-yes, sure!” She bowed. 

Yuta was still busy tucking in his half-buttoned dress shirt when he bumped into a super-very anxious Natsuki. “Here you are!” The _Wakagashira_ yelled. His face, rigid with tension, belied his youthfulness, he seemed to have aged a decade in the past few hours that Yuta hasn’t seen him...and honestly? Rightfully so.

“You good?” Yuta asked rather rhetorically. Of course, Natsuki wasn’t. Both of them started heel-and-toe racing down the hallway

“Oh boy, your attire- you’re a goddamn mess!” Natsuki’s face flushed red. He pressed a hand against his forehead before glaring at Yuta who was smoothing out the creases on his sleeves. “Where’s your tie?”

“I forgot, I just came back from the gym,” Yuta huffed with his brows furrowed. “I’m so fucked.”

“Language!”

* * *

“We’re late, we’re late, we’re late…” Natsuki muttered in the grip of silent panic, both hands moving to fix his misaligned tie subconsciously.

“I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead,” Yuta whispered under his breath, one hand smoothing his messy hair out, brain feeling like it's been pickled in brine.

The two of them halted to a standstill right in front of the golden and white wooden screen door of the meeting room comically, both of them heaving secretively as if to conceal their panting.

The two guards pulled the sliding doors open. The guest was drinking a peculiar brown tea, the most expensive and highest grade-tier of tea leaves, which tasted like nothing else on earth. He fixed his haughty eye upon the arriving two men, with black and piercing eyes, pale complexion, a strongly marked nose, and a black and well-shaped mustache. He was dressed in a business suit that was as crisp as a new banknote and dyed to a uniform shade of bleak grey.

“Mr. Fukuyama.”

“Mr. Fukuyama,” both of them bowed respectfully, purposefully trying to avoid eye contact with the older male seated in the _zaisu_ floor chair.

“Mmh,” The old man grunted as an acknowledgment. His eyes darted to the two of them before drilling them with his penetrating gaze. “Natsuki Nakamoto and Yuta Nakamoto, you’re late.”

“Sorry, Mr. Fukuyama,” Natsuki and Yuta apologized in unison, both hands before them, bowing like young kids being punished.

“Not to mention your god-awful outfit,” The old _Wakagashira_ added, frowning in disapproval. “Your dress shirt is all wrinkled up and where is your tie?”

Natsuki shot Yuta an ‘I told you so’ look. Yuta blinked and swallowed in embarrassment. “I forgot.”

Mr. Fukuyama jabbed the air towards the other chairs with a pointed finger at each utterance, his eyes narrowed and set hard. “Is that how we raised you to dress?”

“No, sir.”

“Sit down, you two,” he grunted.

* * *

Sungchan ran his hand over the top shelf of the bookcase and made a face. The dust laid thickly like winter’s first snow, but instead of being a spirit-raising brilliant white, it was a depressing dirty grey. “Ma, how long have we not cleaned this bookshelf?”

Mrs. Jung looked up from the counter and raised a brow. “I don’t know, no one can reach up to the top shelf,” she went back to cleaning the drawers out from the counter. “The rag is at the back if you’re wondering.”

“Ma!” Sungchan groaned and stomped his foot in a tantrum. “I’m your son, not the cleaner!”

“Aren’t you the one who was bothered by it? Can’t you just help me out?” Mrs. Jung nagged. “Tsk, you’re starting university next month and you’re still acting like a five-year-old?” 

Sungchan pouted like a child. “Fine, fine, fine, I’ll go clean it out,” he grumbled. “You’re only using me as your personal cleaner because I’m tall.”

“And don’t forget to clear the books out as soon as possible.”

The glass door swung open. “Welcome to the Jung bookstore,” Mrs. Jung called out, smiling warmly at the entrance of the new customer. “Oh! Mark! It’s been a while!”

“Yes, hello!” Mark waved with pink in his cheeks. “Oh, uh- I was looking for this few books, I was just wondering-”

“Mom! Where’s the-” Sungchan stomped out of the back room with a dry rag. “Oh! Mark-Hyung!”

Mark grinned at him. “Sungchan!”

Mrs. Jung snatched the rag out of his hand and smacked him across his back, eliciting a cry from the 19 years-old male. “Go help him find the books, you lazy bum!”

“Alright, alright!”

Mark glided his finger over the spines of all the different books on the shelves. Crime novels, science fiction, assorted travel books, biographies, phrasebooks for various languages, large encyclopedias, and...romance novels. He smiled foolishly to himself.

Hyung, is this the book you’re looking for?” Sungchan brought a few books over to Mark. Mark took them and glossed them over. He smiled.

“Yea! This is the right book! Thanks!”

Sungchan stood proudly with his arms akimbo. “If there are any more books you wanna get please get it by this week,” he smiled mysteriously at Mark who eyed him weirdly.

“Why?”

“We’re renovating the store next week.”

“Oh, nice!”

“Hmmph,” Sungchan pressed his lips into a firm line and crossed his arms. “But you wanna know what’s weird?”

“Huh? Yea, what?”

“Someone bought this entire store and signed it under my mom’s name, and they even set out a date for renovation, fully paid,” Sungchan tapped his finger on his chin as if he’s thinking something. “But when we asked the landlord about the buyer, they said it was ‘Mr. Jung’.”

Mark crossed his arm and leaned back curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, the only ‘Mr. Jung’ that I know exists are me, my older brothers, and my dad,” he spoke with the utmost intelligence as if he was deducing an unsolved case from a mystery novel. “But my dad and my oldest brother had passed on...so…”

He made cryptic eye contact with Mark for dramatic effect. “Who could it be?”

Mark nodded. “Yea, I wonder who it could be..”

* * *

“Mr. Fukuyama, how was my dad?” Yuta licked his lips with nervousness as he questioned the older man sitting at the end of the table.

  
  


“He’s not in the best shape...but he’s managing.” Mr. Fukuyama sighed and rubbed his temple. It all made his head ache. “How’s the planning going?”

“Yes, that is exactly what we want to discuss with you today,” Natsuki licked his lips nervously as he watched and observed Mr. Fukuyama’s microexpressions. “We might need some help with the...groundwork.”

Mr. Fukuyama nodded before placing his elbows on the table and clasping his hands right in front of him. “Firstly, from what I know about the _Tsuchigumo,_ they have way more support than you can ever imagine, from the Japanese government and mafias from all over the world.”

“We can’t get the other clans other than the Kawamura clan to help,” Natsuki breathed out in distress. “Are we already losing out in manpower?”

“Of course the other clans wouldn’t, why would they? It’s just additional trouble and danger for them,” the old _Wakagashira_ ’s temple twitched. “You wouldn’t even win if the top five clans work together.”

Yuta’s emotions turn jagged and his insides tightened. “But why? Why are they only attacking us all of a sudden?” His mouth was dry. “Hasn’t our clan co-existed with theirs for the longest time?”

Mr. Fukuyama slammed his fist down onto the table so hard that the ceramic teacups jumped. “The Nakamoto Clan had offended the _Tsuchigumo_ the day Sir Nakamoto had gotten rid of the west sector of the _Tsuchigumo_ ,” He let out a loud growl of annoyance. “Sir Nakamoto had us sworn to secrecy.”

“Secre- secrecy..? Why?” Yuta waited, wide-eyed, heart in his mouth, even though...even though he had a feeling he might already have the answer.

“...”

Yuta raised his eyebrows at the old man. “Why?” he asked again.

Mr. Fukuyama shifted in his seat uncomfortably, but he kept quiet.

“Speak!”

“...Guilt,” Mr. Fukuyama stiffened himself militarily and cleared his throat. “He didn’t want you to shoulder this burden on top of the one you already had.”

The guilt sat not on Yuta’s chest but inside his brain. His breathing and heart rate accelerated. The guilt was like gasoline in his guts. His insides died slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set it ablaze. Natsuki slid a hand over under the table and held Yuta’s trembling one in between his. His hands looked and felt like worn leather. Natsuki’s hands were callused and raw, like he'd had a difficult life and worked twice as hard for everything he had….but...but it was welcoming and assuring for Yuta.

“What else do we need to prepare for?” Natsuki asked, clearly irritated and anxious, and dying to steer the conversation away.

Mr. Fukuyama took a long sip from his teacup. He wrenched his gaze towards the two males seated across him. “ _Tsuchigumo_ **never** attacks from the front,” he leaned forward with full focus. “Are you guys aware of what that entails?”

At that moment, it was Yuta’s bones that felt the chill, as if he was laying in the snow instead of autumn leaves and it was draining his blood dry and running his veins cold. Mark. _Mark._

“I...I need to call Mark,” Yuta swallowed. He had trouble concentrating. “Natsuki, call Shotaro.”

* * *

Mark laid on his bed listening to the track that he wrote lyrics to. He was on his fifth repeat when Lucas danced into the room, feeling extra hyper and excited as ever after dinner.

“Mark, what are you doing?” Lucas sang as he leaped onto Mark’s bed with full force, causing the latter to almost drop his laptop.

“Uh, checking through the lyrics?” Mark answered with an ‘isn’t it obvious’ expression.

“Urgh, that’s all you do,” Lucas grumbled as he picked up the pieces of papers of lyrics and skimmed through them. “You need a better life, bro.”

“Shut up, this _is_ a good life,” Mark emphasized theatrically. “Music is the translation of my soul.”

Lucas reverently rubbed his fingers along the silken mattress Yuta bought for Mark. He pressed his cheek onto the cool, velvet pillows. The comforter was thick and irresistibly soft, like a billowing cloud. He toppled into it, relieved to rest his weary feet. Warmth and darkness enveloped Lucas and he soon succumbed to the call of sleep. Mark blinked at him. Well, that was...fast.

He shrugged and plugged in his earpiece, continuing to work on the unfinished lyrics. The public announcement bell then chimed. “Mr. Mark Lee, someone is looking for you, please come down to the general office.”

Mark pulled his earpiece out for the repeat of the announcement. “Mr. Mark Lee, I repeat, Mr. Mark Lee, someone is looking for you, please come down to the general office.”

_Huh? Yuta?_ Mark stared blankly at the door for a good minute. _But...but Yuta-Hyung didn’t tell me he was...coming?”_

Still, Mark climbed out of bed and went over to put his shoes on. He grabbed the closest sweater he could reach and left the room.

“Mark-Hyung?”

Mark whipped his head around and saw Shotaro strolling down the corridor in an oversized soft black sweater. He waved at him. “Hey!”

“Are you...are you going to the general office?” Shotaro asked curiously, cocking his head to the side.

“Mmhm!”

“I’ll go with you!” Shotaro offered.

* * *

10 P.M

Mark hadn’t been picking up. And neither was Shotaro. And this was a huge deal because Shotaro was almost never unreachable.

“What did the soldiers outside the school say?” Yuta asked Natsuki who had just got off the phone with a guard. He was freezing, but why was he sweating?

His _Wakagashira_ shook his head, his eyebrows knitted together. “They’re all gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ._.
> 
> Dun dun dunnnnn!
> 
> Who! And Why!
> 
> Leave some comments, loves!
> 
> Love, Love Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	25. THE BOY WITH THE DRAGON TATTOOS (PART VI)

“Dad,” Yuta clenched his fist so tightly there were little nail-shaped marks embedded into his palms. “Let me take control of the Korea faction.”

“No,” Sir Nakamoto answered a little too quickly, clenching the pen so tightly the veins underneath his arms were surfacing. “You’re not and I’m not allowing you.”

“I need the reason,” Yuta’s eyes flashed with indignation and anger, much like lightning on a pitch-black night. “Why?”

A burning animosity was developing in Sir Nakamoto’s honey brown iris, and Yuta could tell he was very likely not the root cause of the problem. The way the clan leader’s eyes squinted when he glared at him reminded him of a pit viper's slit-like pupils. Yuta gulped nervously.

“I- I need an explanation,” The young master forced it out, noticing that his legs were twitching, fighting the impulse to whirl around and leave the tension-filled office.

“You-” 

Sir Nakamoto paused to take a deep breath. The grip he had on the pen lightened and he quietly let out the breath he was holding. His body visibly relaxed and he diverted his attention elsewhere before repeatedly tapping on the case of the soft leather file. He took one more deep breath before looking back at Yuta, this time his gaze clearly softer than before. “If you want, I can let you take the Taiwan faction.”

“No,” Yuta swallowed the rage that was starting to bubble at the pit of his stomach. “I only want the Korea faction.”

“If you don’t trust me with it,” Yuta added, his expression turning grim and doleful. “Then I don’t want it.”

He whirled his body around and marched out of the room before he could lose his temper.

Yuta stormed off. He sped down the corridor with Natsuki struggling to keep up with his speed.

“Yuta, wait-”

The young master halted to a sudden stop and swiveled to meet his  _ Wakagashira _ , who had the most perfectly mixed expression of confusion and concern across his face. “Go. Away.” He spat.

“Listen, I-”

“I said,” irritation surged up inside Yuta. “Go away and stop following me.”

He shook his head in disgust and stalked off, leaving Natsuki standing there, dumbfounded as to what just happened.

* * *

The meadow meandered in all ways that are soft to the breeze, the green flowing in bonny waves and the petals bloomed brightly. The grass on his soles was soft on soft, warm on warm, a gentle tickle as each giving wand forms a cushion of green. Each strand moved in the summer breeze as easily as his hair, the waves and rustling as alive as his steady breaths.

Dusk was falling. The heat of the day had ebbed to a comforting warmth. The sunshine had lost its brightness and the colors of the verandah were softened. The early evening lull had come to the meadow hidden right behind the headquarters of the Nakamoto clan. Yuta felt the soothing breeze, becoming absorbed in the music of crickets, letting the gentle energy of nature wash in.

“Ah- There you are,” A familiar voice boomed across the sky. Yuta didn’t even need to turn his head back to know who the owner of it was. “Everyone has been worried and we were all searching for you.”

“Lies,” Yuta muttered. He lied down on his back and pillowed the back of his head with his arms.

Mr. Fukuyama sat down beside Yuta rather stiffly in his black suits, propping his knees up. He stared at Yuta who was staring at the darkening sky and he looked upwards too. “Still upset?”

Yuta was 18, but he felt like a kid throwing a tantrum for not getting what he wanted. But Mr. Fukuyama couldn’t understand, his dad couldn’t understand, heck, even Natsuki couldn’t understand what the Korea faction had meant to him. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he closed his eyes and prayed that when the next time he opened them, Mr. Fukuyama would leave him alone.

“Why do you think Sir Nakamoto didn’t let you take control of the Korea faction?” he asks the question smoothly, the baritone of his voice reverberating through Yuta’s bones.

“It’s obvious that he doesn’t trust me with his second-biggest faction,” Even saying it made Yuta feel the deep aches and shooting pain in his chest. “Because I’m not his biological son.”

“You really think so?”

The breeze slipped through his fingers after playing in the leaves and running along the dark sky. “Yes, we’re not family by blood,” Yuta replied quietly. His chest was on fire and he bit back the urge to cry. “I mean, you would know, you were there.”

“Yes, I was,” Mr. Fukuyama nodded. He peeked at Yuta. “It’s true that you guys were not family by blood, but could it not have been by choice?”

  
  


“Oh save that, He doesn’t fucking think of me as his family okay, I’m merely his tool,” Yuta rolled his eyes and slung one hand over his eyes. “Did you forget what he said to me at the orphanage?”

“...Which?”

“That he needed, a successor, a successor who shared his last name,” the cool breeze wafted over him, but to Yuta, it was bitter and cruel. “I was merely one of his choices, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Mr. Fukuyama nodded, crossed his arms, shrugged his shoulders, and looked the other way. “But you are not  _ merely _ one of his choices.”

“I don’t understan-”

“He chose you, not because you were  _ simply _ one of his choices,” he managed a half-smile. “He chose you because you have all the qualities to  _ be _ his successor, he chose you to be a family, not because you’re a choice.”

The younger male could feel a searing pain in his heart and he bit his bottom lip to stop himself from crying. An array of colors set about the sky, from purples to oranges, and the two of them sat there in silence.

“I’m leaving soon so I’m going to tell you the reason why Sir Nakamoto didn’t want you to take over the South Korea faction,” Mr. Fukuyama sighed heavily and the atmosphere became tighter and tighter. “You have to promise me not to let him know.”

Yuta pushed himself up to a sitting position. He, too, took in a deep breath. If he listened carefully enough, he could hear the rushing and gentle sound of the waterfall. The sun was setting, the color was becoming more reddish-orange. The surrounding sky is more in purple color. The top of the sun continued, slowly, below the horizon. “I promise.”

“It’s not just us, but the  _ Tsuchigumo  _ has their second-largest base set in South Korea too,” The old  _ Wakagashira _ furrowed his eyebrows. “Sir Nakamoto just wants to keep you safe by keeping you off their radar.”

Yuta's leaden lungs suppressed any efforts he made to inhale. Heart pounding like a jackhammer, he attempted to suck in another deep breath.

“He...he does love you a lot,” Mr. Fukuyama looked at him over his half-glasses, then he pushed himself up to his feet. “He might have troubles expressing his love but he’s...he’s still a father.”

“Your father,” he added before he turned around to leave. The sky darkened after the warm glare disappeared, and Yuta sat there alone in the dark.

* * *

Autumn. The autumn season stretches forth with fingers of every hue, from the serenity of browns to fireside reds and the gold of sunny days. Yuta sniffled a little as he listened to the crunch of dead leaves under his boots. He finally ended his training and he couldn’t wait to go back to his room to read the new series of novels that Haru had mailed to him.

“ _ Aniki!”  _ Someone yelled from behind him and Yuta looked up sharply. It was Shotaro. “ _ Aniki, _ wait!”

“Shotaro, what’s up,” Yuta smiled his crooked half-smile.

Shotaro jabbed his arm to the back and flooded his face with his signature sunshine smile. “Natsuki- _ Aniki _ is looking for you.”

“Okay, sure, yea,” Yuta blinked. “Let’s go.”

It was a...scam. No, not that serious but close enough. At least to Yuta, it felt that way. He walked right into a meeting room with Natsuki, Mr. Fukuyama, and...his father, the clan leader, that he almost had not spoken to for three months. Shotaro’s innocent and pure smiley face had lured him into this, and he beat himself up mentally for forgetting who Shotaro was and what that sweet-looking gremlin was capable of.

“What’s this? A party? Why is everyone here?” Yuta mumbled angrily to himself. He felt like a sore loser.

“Yuta, sit down,” Sir Nakamoto pointed his finger to the chair in front of him, voice vibrating with power and command. Yuta made no reply, he strolled through the door and sat down to where he was ordered to.

Even though his face was expressionless and he carried himself rather nonchalantly, all the things he had done for the past months came flooding into his brain and he filtered them one-by-one, unsure of what he had done wrong.  _...Haru? Could it be...that...he found out about Haru?  _ His mind was engulfed with negative thoughts. Thinking about the punishments he would be receiving made shudder travel from his feet to his head.

“Show it to him,” Sir Nakamoto leaned back to his chair as Mr. Fukuyama stepped forward with an opaque black file in his hand. The young master’s stomach churned over and he felt sick for this brief moment, half expecting a letter by Haru to be inside the file in Mr. Fukuyama’s hand.

The old  _ Wakagashira _ placed the file on the table right in front of Yuta and nudged him on the shoulder. “Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Take a look.”

Yuta squirmed in mindless suffering as he reached for the black file with shaky fingers.  _ It’s okay, Yuta, breathe.  _ He took a deep breath and relaxed. It was hard for his mind to be in a panic when his body was relaxed.

Then, he pulled out the content in the file. It was-  _ wait, what? _ It was a piece of paper with a dragon design on it. Yuta stared at it and rubbed his throat hastily. “What’s this?” he questioned, his dark eyebrows crinkled together.

“This was the blueprint design for my dragon arm tattoos,” Sir Nakamoto reluctantly tore his eyes away from his son who was boring his eyes into his. “You can...you can get it tattooed if you want to.”

“Why?”

“Your dad realized you never once wore the standardized training outfit we gave to all our men and soldiers and he asked Natsuki for the reason,” This time, it was Mr. Fukuyama who stepped in to explain. “Natsu-”

“That’s enough!” Sir Nakamoto hissed before he quickly glanced around the table.

“No, it’s not,” Mr. Fukuyama clicked his tongue in blatant annoyance. “Natsuki said that your scars were the reason why you weren’t wearing the training uniforms so he dug his tattoo designs out.”

“I was simply trying to…” Sir Nakamoto stopped speaking when he realized Yuta was staring at him, his small crimson lips parted into an O shape. His face flushed awkward red. “Why’re looking at me like this?”

Yuta shook his head, muttered “nothing” and then snapped his attention down to the few pieces of papers in his hand. He observed the designs. The dragons had a way about them, a slowness and grace. Scales cold as ice that blazed bright as an ever flickering flame. He ran his finger slowly over them and he smiled…a little.

* * *

“You ready?” The tattoo artist who sat beside him sent a smile his way before going back to prepare the equipment he had in his hand. “Are you scared?”

Yuta pushed his hair back and sat deeper into the huge black leather chair, making himself comfortable. “No, not really,” he allowed a weary smile to loosen his lips. “Just make sure the tattoo covers all my scars.”

At first, it was burning pain. It felt like something very hot was pressed against his skin for a long time. Yuta closed his eyes. This pain didn’t bother him. Then, scratching pain, like an intense scratch moving across the tattooed area as if a cat were dragging its claws across your skin. It was hurting him but he kept his mouth shut the entire time, hoping that the tattoo artist could hurry up and finish his tattoos.

Yuta stood in front of the mirror and looked at his own tattoos. Gosh, he looked so intimidating, so cool and so...badass. It kinda reminded him of the first time he saw Sir Nakamoto at the orphanage. 

“There, well, it looks amazing,” The voice echoed through the mini-studio room. Yuta stared at the mirror and saw his own father and Mr. Fukuyama at the entrance of the room. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s...okay,” Yuta pressed his lips together and looked away. “And yea...it looks pretty good.”

“Your dad never intended to make it an heirloom thing but here we go,” Mr. Fukuyama commented half-heartedly, but it was enough to make the two men in the room act more awkwardly around each other.

* * *

Yuta didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He pulled his winter jacket tighter and was running to class when he ran past the clan leader’s meeting room, which was surprisingly unguarded. At the foot of the stairs he could hear the voice of Nakamoto's family doctor: “...Yes, it would be better for you to take on Chemotherapy….”

Yuta stood there. His body didn’t know how to react, it just shut down. He froze to a point where he was hardly breathing.  _ Chemo...therapy? _ Something seemed to draw him forward, and before he even realized it, he scooted closer to the room and squatted there, trying to listen to what the doctor was saying.

“Can I stick to medication?” It was Sir Nakamoto’s voice. He sounded...stressed. Tired. And for the first time that Yuta had known him, afraid.

“Sir, you’re at Stage three stomach cancer, medication would no longer work as well,” the doctor explained. “If you do not do Chemotherapy your health will only spiral…”

Pulse beating in his ears, blocking out all other sounds. He always knew Sir Nakamoto had an incurable terminal illness, but he never knew it was stomach cancer, let alone... stage three…

“How long more can I last?” 

“Eight years, maximum,” the doctor replied grimly, “We need to run more tests to confirm it.”

Yuta slid down the wall and brought his knees up to his chest, he put a hand over his mouth to stifle a scream. This was the last thing he ever wanted to happen.  _ No...not another one of my parents… _

* * *

Row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, color-coded with dots. Yuta had always managed to find the news books easily. He found somewhere remote in the small library and sat at where it smelt of dusty, musty, old books. He didn’t know why, but he liked it.

Shotaro materialized right in front of him and almost scared the living shit out of Yuta. His entire body jerked to a standstill unexpectedly and he swore his jaw almost dropped to the floor. “What the fuck!” Yuta whispered-yell as he leaped up to his feet, dropping all the books onto the carpeted floor. “Where did you come from?!”

“Oh, sorry  _ Aniki,  _ uh- I came through the front door,” Shotaro pointed to the door with a blank face. “Oh right, anyway, I came to tell you that Sir Nakamoto will be holding a meeting with the clan and the shareholderS tomorrow.”

“O...okay…?” Yuta clutched his chest tightly and eyed Shotaro suspiciously. “Why is it so sudden? Do you know what he will be announcing?”

The young informant shook his head and cocked his head to the side. “No, sorry.”

Yuta pointed an accusatory finger at Shotaro and squinted at him, unconvinced. “You would’ve found something out, wouldn’t you?” he jabbed his pointy finger into Shotaro’s side which made the younger male squirm in itchiness. “Share the information.”

“Yea, yea, yea, ah- stop poking me!” Shotaro squealed as he shoved Yuta’s hands away from him. “I would share it but Sir Nakamoto would kill me!”

* * *

Yuta sat beside Mr. Fukuyama in the huge conference hall, wearing a dark blue business suit as he flipped his school notes, waiting for the different guards and men to gather for the conference that Yuta had no idea why and how he was a part of. Finals for high school are in the next two weeks and it would determine which university he could attend.

“Good morning,  _ Saiko-Komon, Komon, Hisho, Kaikei, Shingiin,  _ my  _ Wakagashira, Shategashira,  _ and all of my  _ Wakagashira-Hosa _ and  _ Kumi-in, _ ” The clan leader greeted with a pale smile on his lips that it was almost hard for Yuta to look at. “Today, I have an important announcement to make.”

He paused to take a sip of the hot tea that was on the table right before him. “I will be announcing the next generation of leaders in line for all the factions the Nakamoto Clan have across the world.” He picked up the papers that Mr. Fukuyama prepared for him.

“For the Taiwan faction, Mr. Goto will be taking over,” He read. The room erupted into applause for the new faction leader.

“The Singapore faction, Mr. Kamiya,” Sir Nakamoto continued. “Thailand faction, Mr. Aoyama, the India faction, Mr. Sakamoto.”

He paused right before reading the last one. His eyes darted around the room and eventually landed on Yuta, who held his eye contact for a good 15 seconds. For some reason, the feeling of dread crept up from the pit of Yuta’s stomach. Sir Nakamoto went back to the paper in his hand.

“For the South Korea faction, our second biggest faction,” His gaze calmly searched for Yuta’s, his eyes were a sharp, somewhat gentle crimson red. Yuta steadied his breath and tried to calm the panic. “Will be taken over by my son, Yuta, Nakamoto Yuta.”

The wave of applause in the room was louder than the thunder, there were even people cheering, but Yuta sat there, he turned slowly, not even bothering to feign happiness.

“Why?” He mouthed to the clan leader, who placed the paper back onto the table. He strode up to Yuta and placed his large hand on Yuta’s shoulder and leaned down.

“Because I trust you, my son,” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Don’t let me down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ʕ •̀ o •́ ʔ This is the final chapter for the [THE BOY WITH THE DRAGON TATTOOS] arc! I hope all of you enjoyed reading the trio's backstory and how Yuta ended up in Korea!
> 
> Can't believe I woke up to see that this story has 419 Kudos! You guys are showering me with so much love I don't deserve! Thank you for all the kind support!! 
> 
> Have a great day and week, leave me some comments too (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ 
> 
> L O V E,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	26. TSUCHIGUMO (PART I)

“It’s getting chilly recently, right,” Mark grinned lightly as he pulled his gray woolen jacket higher up his neck. He kinda regretted it though, he should’ve gotten one that was thicker. He glanced at Shotaro’s plain oversized soft black sweater and felt chills down to his spine. “Are you cold? Do you want my sweater?”

Shotaro shook his head with his crescent eye smiles. “Nope, I’ve got heat packs,” he patted his arms and chest rather proudly.

“Smart,” Mark beamed endearing at him, his face scrunching up.

Upon reaching the general office located on the first floor, Shotaro rushed forward to open the door for Mark. It was kinda cute and, not gonna lie, quite weird and out of place. “He-hey, you don’t have to do that,” Mark blurted out, a little flustered at the younger male’s actions. It wasn’t as if he was his boss or anything, he was merely his university senior.

Shotaro chuckled as he watched Mark slightly jog up to the door, his back slightly hunched in embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled lightly.

Mark shrugged that off easily. Maybe it was a cultural thing for him, and who was Mark to judge him? He jogged up to the counter where the staff was seated and leaned down to them, “Hey, um, good evening, I’m Mark, and uh…” his gaze darted around the room looking for Yuta’s presence...only to note that the office was empty. “I...I heard someone was looking for me?”

“Oh, Mark Lee Min-Hyung?” The female staff jabbed her finger in the direction of the school car park. “They said they were going out to the car park to smoke and had asked us to tell you to meet them there.”

_ Smoke? Yuta doesn’t smoke? _ Mark’s brows creased and his face tensed. “Did they say who they were?”

“No,” The staff stared at him with a straight-face. “But they did say you would know them, though.”

The university student stood straighter and his face crumpled with hesitation and confusion. This was very not what Yuta would normally do and it came off so unexpected to him. Mark scratched his head as he stood in the room stupidly.  _ Should he go? Should he not go?  _ What was he supposed to do?

“Mark-Hyung,” Shotaro stepped forward, one hand on Mark’s shoulder, casualness, and his usual smile wiped from his face, “don’t go.”

Mark shook his head and sighed heavily. “Yea, I shouldn’t…let’s go back to our rooms-”

Just then, the phone in the general office rang, Mark turned around to push the younger out of the door. Before both of them could step out of the room, the staff called him once more. “Mr. Mark Lee? Your visitor wanted to speak to you, he’s on the phone.”

He shot Shotaro a look, who returned him the same look of distress and jogged slightly over to the phone. He picked it up and answered with a meek “hello?”

“I’m not Nakamoto Yute but I’m someone capable of harming him if you don’t come outside right now,” ...his voice was both coarse and deep, and with the way he spoke, Mark could feel a chill running down his spine, out of fear. “Come out alone to the school car park, my men will bring you over to me.”

The color quickly drained from his face, the phone still in his hand, against his ear. He was slowly forgetting how to breathe as he waited for the man to continue.

“Remember, I  **am** capable of hurting Nakamoto Yuta,” there was a sickening and blood-chilling laugh at the end of the line before the caller continued. “If you don’t want Nakamoto to get hurt, you know what you gotta do,  _ Mr. Mark Lee.” _

The way he spoke his name...A cold wave embalmed him as the hairs rose on the back of his neck and his mouth ran dry. His eyes landed on Shotaro momentarily, who was watching him intensely, before he looked away to the door. “I’ll...I’ll need to go somewhere,” he took a deep breath to steady his erratic breathing. “You can…” he swallowed. “You can go back to the dorm room first if you want to.”

Mark’s shaky hands, inconsistent breaths, quavering voice, vibrating irises that seemed to divert away every time it met his eyes...Shotaro could read him like an open book. _ Lucas? In the room sleeping. Renjun, Chenle, Xiao-Jun, and Hendery? In the web cafe playing games...so that left him one more reason to go. Yuta.  _ “Mark-Hyung, listen-”

“I- I got to go!” Mark rasped out before Shotaro could say his piece and he dashed out of the office in full speed. Shotaro stared at his retreating figure with an open-mouthed before cursing softly under his breath. He wasted no time to follow right behind Mark.

* * *

The moment he reached the car park, he was ambushed and grabbed by the arm by three other men. “Who- mmmpph!” Someone had clasped a cloth over his mouth and pressed it down, stopping him from screaming out for help. These people clearly came prepared, their grips were strong, and it kept him almost hovering off the floor and prevented him from struggling or waving for help. Mark was almost half dragged by them using all the unlit alleys and dark walkways. He was hardly breathing at all.

The effort he made to fight back was rendered futile. And as much as he desperately prayed for time to stop for once and forever, he was dragged and forced into the back alley. The back alley that he hated with his guts and his entire being. Mark was violently pushed and he fell onto the floor with a hard thud.

“Oomp-” He grunted. He could feel the flight response kick in, increasing his heart rate, flooding him with added adrenaline. He crawled to his legs and attempted to flee, only to be destructively yanked back to the concrete floor. His weakened hands and knees finally gave in. The three assailants stood before him, in messy, loose dark blue suits. One of them had a mask on and another had a bandana over his mouth, and the last man had a pair of shades on. Mark tried to breathe in and out but air wouldn't enter his lungs. Starved for air, his heart raced at tremendous speeds, and his lungs shallowly rose and fell in time. He stayed rooted in his position as he eyed the weapons they held in their hands.

Immediately he shuffled away from them, but in that narrow alleyway, his back hit the wall, trapping him in with the three men.

“Who the hell-”

Not giving him a chance to protest or ask, the man with a bandana dragged his leg forward, raised his legs, and stepped on Mark’s left shoulder, forcing him into the ground with much force. Mark groaned in pain as his back hit the ground. His stomach shifted uneasily and he noticed that the hands that he used to hug himself with were now pinching into his skin.

The other two men hovered before him, eyes still and empty like machines. Machines deployed to kill him.

The one with the mask grabbed onto Mark’s chin and tilted it left and right, examining his face carefully. “Let me go!” He yelled angrily, eyes stinging with tears threatening to fall. As he tried to wriggle out of the force pinning him down, the men collectively forced him back onto the floor. He opened his mouth to scream, but someone had slapped a huge hand over his jaws, fingers dug into his cheeks, the inside of his mouth lacked any moisture and a croak was all that was issued from his muffled lips. 

“Yes, it’s him.” The masked man confirmed. 

Before he could wrestle his way out from the grasps of the strangers, he saw, as though from another body, a hand swing out and connect to his stomach. Then the pain hit him, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Mark started coughing and spluttering, gasping for breath, feeling like he had been shot. “Stop-”

And then a hard punch socked him on his jaw. His eyes watered and he bit back a groan. “Keep your mouth shut if you didn’t want to be killed right now,” The mask-man spoke in hushed tones. “You see that car?” He pointed to the line of matted black cars parked at the other end of the alleyway. “We’re going there right now, so you better shut the fuck up.”

Two of them heaved Mark up, who was doubling over and crying out in pain. The adrenaline went as fast as it came and soon before he even noticed it, his body was limp and he was running out of energy to push himself away. He was a few steps forward and then- two muffled gunshot echoed through the alleyway and the two men holding him dropped dead to the ground. For several moments he stood unmoving before he turned around. Shotaro, a pistol in his hand, a smoking barrel.  _ What was goin- _

It was so fast. Too fast. Mark could barely finish questioning the entire ordeal before he dropped to the ground, unconscious. The third man whom Shotaro had not shot, hit him right at the back of his head with the baseball bat that he picked up seconds ago. Shotaro shot his last bullet but he missed as someone had pounced on him from the back. His eyes shot up, twenties and thirties of men were flooding out of different cars. He managed to fend himself off for the first ten attackers, but alas, he was badly outnumbered. Five men had him pinned to the ground with his arms pressed into his backs. He watched more men maneuvered around, slapping handcuffs onto Mark’s unmoving hands and his. For the first time in 20 years, Shotaro failed his mission.

“We’re running out of time, need to go now! Bring both of them in!” One guard hollered down the busy alleyway. And with that, the two of them were apprehended and dragged to the cars.

* * *

“They’re all gone.”

Yuta sucked in a deep breath, he stood for a couple of seconds, his stomach churning, his eyes closed. He felt dizzy as he sat down. In his mind, thousands and millions of the worst-case scenarios ran through his mind and each and every single one of them felt so real.

“Alright, boys, we have time, they won’t kill your boyfriend or your brother yet,” Mr. Fukuyama clapped his hands to gain their attention. He laid out a few pieces of paper that he had brought. “Leave the worrying for later, we need to plan right now, or else you will never be able to save them.”

Natsuki slid back into the seat and sat up straighter. Yuta slapped his own face, forcing himself to come to his senses. He  _ needed _ to do this. And he  _ had  _ to do it. There were no other choices. It was a miscalculation on his side and this was a stumbling block meant for the Nakamoto Clan, not Mark. He eased the air out of his lungs slowly and stared straight at Mr. Fukuyama, waiting for the old  _ Wakagashira _ to share his plans.

“The emergency first, we’ll discuss how to track their location down,” Mr. Fukuyama looked at the table. “We need to look for things that we can track.”

“Phones,” Yuta blurted out. He threw his phone to the guard standing closest to him. “Use this to track Mark and Shotaros’ phones.”

“Yes sir.”

“The badge- ah! Shotaro doesn’t have it,!” Natsuki snapped before he slammed a fist heavily against the wooden table. All of the Nakamoto badges were embedded with Active RFID chips. Active RFID is used for real-time location tracking, which means the locations of every guard, men, and soldiers could be tracked at all times. But Shotaro, an informant, was not given such a badge for the sake of his safety of not being found out.

“No, no, no,” Yuta cracked his brain. It felt like he was missing something out. Like he was forgetting something. “Shotaro...Shotaro…”

_ Yuta, think. Come on, Yuta, THINK!  _ He felt a terrible pain in his head.  _ Shotaro...Shotaro...his badge… _

_ “Oh my God, we’re finally moving into the headquarters tomorrow!” Yuta sang excitedly as he shoved a bag full of clothes into his luggage. He was 17, and in two weeks’ time, he’ll turn 18, and he knew there will be a grand birthday party planned for him. “Do you think there will be more fun things to do over there?” _

_ Shotaro had been watching him for a while, with a cryptic smile on his face and his arms crossed, sitting on top of his study table that was located at the corner of the room. “Mmhm, honest opinion?” _

_ “Of course!” Yuta shot him a judgemental look. _

_ “I think it will be way worse than how it was here.” _

_ “Really?” Yuta stopped packing and stood up straighter. He stared at Shotaro with surprised eyes that were losing their glistening every passing second. The younger male sighed and shrugged. _

_ “You wanted an honest opinion so I gave it to you,” He offered Yuta a comforting smile but he knew it wouldn’t work. His hope had been crushed. Shotaro leaped off the table and sat right in front of Yuta. “Think about it, we can still goof around here in the training ground, but at the headquarter...yea, you know…” _

_ The older male sulked. “Know what?”  _

_ “More rigid, more hierarchy, more formalities, and lesser people we are familiar with,” Shotaro clucked his tongue. “No more Mr. Shimura, Mr. Ida, Mr. Mayumi, and Mr. Takahashi as our trainers.” _

_ His lips downturned into a pout, unhappy lines on his face etched deeply. Then Yuta scrunched his face and continued to pack his luggage. _

_ “I’ll help,” Shotaro offered quietly. He picked up a few pieces of clothes and folded them neatly and placed them one by one into the luggage. That was when Yuta noticed the gold ring on his finger. _

_ “You’re still keeping the tier rings? Dad said we don’t have to wear them once we graduate from the training ground,” Yuta raised his brows at the younger male who didn’t seem surprised at what he was saying, instead, he nodded. _

_ “I know,” Shotaro didn’t even look up from the shirt he was folding. “I am an informant, remember? I don’t have the badge you all have, they embedded the chip into my ring.” _

_ Yuta’s lips formed into an “O” shape. He nodded with amazement. “Cool!” _

_ “Yea, it’s easier to hide than the badge.” _

Yuta slammed the table. Hard. Surprising everyone in the meeting room. “His ring. Shotaro doesn’t have the badge but he wears the ring! Track that!”

All of them waited for the guard to track the active transponder tag, Yuta tapping anxiously against the table, and Natsuki, who seemed a lot calmer, was shaking his leg uncharacteristically under the table.

“We received a signal!” The guard cried. Yuta and Natsuki bolted up from their chairs and crowded around the guard with the high-tech GPS Tracking system.

“Where did it say they were at?” Yuta asked as shivers crept through his body.

“We only have a general location,” The guard explained as he typed multiple codes into his laptop. “For now we only know they are at Ulsan.”

Yuta grabbed his jacket, “Let’s go-” 

“Wait!” Mr. Fukuyama grasped onto Yuta’s wrist rather tightly. Stopping him from moving. His pale eyes narrowed. “We’re not done with the planning.”

“But Mark-”

“And what are you going to do once we go to Ulsan? What is your plan?”

Yuta was speechless. And found that he could not meet his eyes. He quietly sat back down. He was clutching so tightly to the paper that it was all crumpled. Every heartbeat sent a surge of pain as if his chest were being torn apart.

* * *

Panting heavily, his clothes drenched with sweat, Mark forced a moan as he opened his eyes slowly. The dimly lit room seemed distant and vague and it took him a moment to focus his eyes at the location. Slumped against the wall of the corner, the corrugated iron roof was domed some twenty-five feet above him. Abandoned tables and chairs were piled high at the far end. At the other end were empty and dirty plastic and card boxes. It was all empty and it smelt of sawdust and iron.

A pounding headache boomed through his brain and he subconsciously raised a hand to ease the pain only to find out that he had been paralyzed and unable to move. No, he wasn’t paralyzed. He was tied...tied? He was  _ chained. _

Shaking to the bone, he licked his lips, trying to wet his mouth. He glanced around the room, negative thoughts swallowing his brain whole. As if on cue, a chorus of footsteps then flooded into the warehouse, heels of their boots clicking loudly against the cemented floor. Guards and men flooded into the room.

The knot in the pit of Mark’s stomach was hurting him. He watched them run in one by one. Until the end. Followed behind the masses was a man, bald, in mismatched dark blue suits and a stomach-turning venomous sneer, eyebrow piercings. His eyes resembled one of a snake and they were almost fully black. _He must...he must be the boss._ Beside him was another guard with a face mask, golden insignia on his collar, and he was dragging something bloody. No, no, no no, no, it was _someone._ And that someone? Mark squinted and felt nauseated before his head started spinning. That, someone, was Shotaro.

He wanted to pinch himself and wake up. This was a joke, this was all a joke right? He watched the bald man throw Shotaro onto the cold, dirty tiles as if he was...a sack of rice or flour or...whatever, and he tumbled onto the floor lifelessly, his hair stuck to his forehead, blood as it’s adhesive, and his lips were busted. The side of his sweater darkened... _ blood.  _ “Shota...Shotaro,” Mark croaked out, heart in his throat as he attempted to inch closer to the younger man in front of him, but the shackles kept him stagnant. 

Shotaro remained unconscious. One guard ran up to the bald man with a wooden chair. “Sir, have a seat.”

The boss sat down and he tilted his head with a vile smirk as if he was reading Mark. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he looked away, his lips and hands trembling in unison.

“Hm, easy boy,” It was the same raspy voice on the phone. “Since our beloved Informant here refused to give me the information I needed, let me get them from you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C L I M A X _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_ 
> 
> Shotaro! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
> 
> Leave a comment and I wish that you all have a great week ahead ٩(●ᴗ●)۶
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	27. TSUCHIGUMO (PART II)

“Hm, easy boy,” It was the same raspy voice on the phone. “Since our beloved Informant here refused to give me the information I needed, let me get them from you.”

_In...informant? What- Who?_ There was someone punching the walls that encircled his brain. It was distorting his reality. “Where am...I? Who...who are you?”

“Alright, let’s see, we’re not in South Korea anymore, and,” the boss flashed an insincere smile, evil in his eyes. “My name is Mr. Yatsukahagi and you will address me as such. Did this precious little informant notify you about us before? The _Tsuchigumo?”_

Mark forced himself to stay conscious. It was then, Mark realized his Korean had sounded extremely accented. Very much like Yuta’s Osaka accent but...heavier. “I..I…,” Mark coughed. His throat was burning. “I have no idea what you’re talking about…” he swallowed painfully. “What informant are you talking about?”

The bald man ignored him, he stood up nonchalantly and trudged towards Mark with light steps, striding over Shotaro like he was merely an object and squatting down right in front of Mark. He studied Mark with an unreadable glower. The university student was terrified. Petrified and scared shit-less. But he refused to back down and cower from his fear. He willed all the determination that was in his body to stare right back at the boss, clenching his teeth so tightly his jawline felt like it was tearing through his chin.

The boss was having none of it. He pursed his lips up irritatedly and grappled Mark’s chin tightly between his hands, his grip so strong it might leave some bruises, Mark was sure of it. The younger male struggled against the man and the metal chains, but his attempts had been proven inefficacious.

“Look at you, look at you, a pretty face,” Mr. Yatsukahagi cooed, lifting one of his brows up and the two metal piercing moved as he chuckled humorlessly to himself, “You’re worth quite an amount, maybe if you failed to reply to my questions I’ll just sell you off.”

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” Mark gritted out agonizingly, his gaze conveyed a bubbling hatred. Disgust perhaps.

Mr. Yatsukahagi’s grip tightened, causing Mark to wince silently. “Alright, fun’s over,” his eyes darkened and the prior grin turned into a predatory scowl. He held out his other hand to his guards and one of them strode up to place a silver dagger in his palm. A sliver spider, red-eyed and extremely intricately carved, crawled intimidatingly along the black hilt. Mark swallowed as his eyes followed the weapon that advanced closer and closer to him.

The boss tapped the heavy blade against Mark’s cheeks twice, and he flinched pitifully, clearly out of fear and surprise. “Tell me, Mr. Mark Lee, if you don’t want me to design something as _complicated_ as my beautiful, beautiful spider over here on your face, you better tell me what I want to hear,” he sneered. “Where did Ichikawa and Yuta Nakamoto hide the USB?”

“I-I have no idea!” Mark answered timidly. _What is he talking about? What USB?_ He eyed the dagger in Mr. Yatsukahagi’s hand that had been pressed right to his skin. Any time he decided to tilt his dagger, the blade would’ve cut right into his skin.

“Think about it!” Mr. Yatsukahagi barked as he slammed Mark against the cemented wall, making him grunt from the force. “Think about where the Nakamoto fuckers could’ve hidden the USB!”

“I really don’t know!” Mark cried out in desperation and distress. Tears were pouring out of his reddened eyes as he pushed himself away from the boss. “Yuta doesn’t tell me much about his work!”

Mark glanced over at Mr. Yatsukahagi’s face, anger smoldering beneath his stony expression. He gulped vigorously. “Wrong answer,” the boss answered after moments of raging silence, rather calmly. He then took a deep breath and readjusted the dagger in his hand to a certain angle. An angle that could easily cut him. Mark’s watery eyes enlarged and the hairs on the nape of his neck bristled. He heard a noise, not of a human; he didn’t realize it was his own until much later. His brain had clearly shut down. The blade in Mr. Yatsukahagi’s hand had started to cut into Mark’s cheek, a drop of red slid down. He squeezed his eyes tight preparing himself for more pain.

“Don...don’t...touch him…” a faint voice cut through the chaos, silencing the cacophony. Mark had almost missed it for he had been hyper-focusing on the dagger in the boss’s hand. Mr. Yatsukahagi paused momentarily with flares in his eyes before cracking his head back to the source of the sound. 

Shotaro. The young informant sat up slowly, wiping his forehead and neck, both damp with blood and sweat. His eyes were bloodshot and out of focus. Breathing heavily, he managed to choke out a few words. “The Nakamoto clan would never forgive you if you touch him.”

“Sho...Shotaro, are you okay?” Mark yelled, he swallowed hard, willing his eyes to remain dry and his mind focused. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Shotaro is okay for now. Mark, don’t cry._

“You’re right. You know what? I shouldn’t hurt him because he could be sold at a good price,” Mr. Yatsukahagi lowered the dagger in his hand and stood up. “Maybe _you’re_ the one I should hurt, huh.”

He tidied his slightly crumpled suit jackets, walked leisurely to where Shotaro sat and cocked his head to the side, obviously annoyed, and sized the younger male up. Shotaro’s blood had nearly covered the entire patch that he had lied on and Mark had to fight back the urge to cry and choke back the acrid smell of intense iron. “How the fuck are you not dead- what did they feed you at the Nakamoto manor? Steroids?” he sniggered. “Maybe it’s time you learn to mind your own business.” 

He threw the dagger up in the air and caught it perfectly, kneeling in front of Shotaro and shoved the blade right under his chin, the tip digging shallowly into his throat, but the younger male didn’t even flinch or blink. “I’ll kill you off with so much _pain_ maybe you’ll start to learn how to respect your elders,” he scorned, driving the dagger deeper into Shotaro’s throat, who’s eyes were hard-rimmed and fixed, so much so that it was as if he was no longer able to move his eyeballs as if they'd rusted into place. At once a fountain of red came from the wound. 

_Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ The ebb and flow of blood would kill Shotaro in no time. He needed to think. He needed to think _quickly_. Adrenaline surged so fast he almost vomited, he could taste saliva thickening in his throat and beads of sweat trickling down his brow. 

“Wait- stop, stop, STOP!” Mark shrieked, earning attention from everyone in the room, including Shotaro who had almost one-quarter of the dagger plunged into his neck, and looked like he was about to pass out any time. “I’ll- I’ll tell you anything you need...just...just stop!”

The demonic grin crept back into Mr. Yatsukahagi’s face as he finally stopped exerting force on the silver weapon and waved his men over to Shotaro. “Now we’re talking!” He laughed maniacally, pulled the chair forward, and planted it right in front of Mark. “Now let’s start with the first question - Is the USB in Korea, or Japan?”

* * *

“Ulsan...Ulsan Industrial Complex,” The guard slid the laptop right in between Yuta and Natsuki, he tapped one of the spots in between those huge factories, “Please take a look over….here.”

Natsuki massaged his temple and took a deep breath. He stole a glance at Yuta who seemed deep in thoughts and then turned to Mr. Fukuyama who had been sipping his tea quietly. “Mr. Fukuyama, we found the location of where they are at…” he licked his lips and waited for the old _Wakagashira_ to look up. And when he did, Natsuki pressed his lips into a firm line before continuing. “The location really works in our favor but...is that the only way?”

“This was established as the most concrete plan to take down the _Tsuchigumo_ since the _Yakuza_ clan battles that happened 30 years ago,” Mr. Fukuyama replied firmly, holding Natsuki’s gaze with an icy hostility. “No, there are no other ways we could do this.”

Natsuki’s body tensed even more. “We could try to connect it wirelessly or something! We don’t have to make it manual! This is not 30 years ago! We are way more advanced than that!”

“You’re right, it’s way more advanced now,” Mr. Fukuyama frowned, eyes still locked on Natsuki. “That’s why the moment you stepped into their compound with any devices attached they’re going to find out, and our plan fails.”

“But this is too reckles-”

“I’ll do it,” Yuta interjected. His voice was calm, his face impassive but tilted back a little so he was looking down on Natsuki. “They have Mark and this is what I have to do.”

“But Yuta, listen-”

“I’ll wear the explosive belt,” Yuta enunciated again. “Let’s go to the Ulsan Industrial Complex.”

* * *

“I...I need to know what the USB is for before...before I can tell you if I know where they put the USB!” Mark negotiated, his eyes darting everywhere to form a coherent sentence. The courage and brave front he had built prior had collapsed into dust.

Mr. Yatsukahagi leaned back into his chair, crossed his arms, and leaned back into the chair. He was clearly observing Mark and contemplating whether he should actually tell him what he actually was looking for. Mark dug his fingernails so deep into his palms it was leaving him little moon-shaped indents into his skin. _Please, please, please, Yuta, please..._ Mark silently prayed that he could drag this out as long as possible. If Yuta doesn’t come within two or three hours, Shotaro could die from severe blood loss and he, too, would have no chance of survival.

Mr. Yatsukahagi smacked his lips and sighed rather indifferently. “Well, I supposed you can’t do any harm to us even if I tell you about the USB,” he smiled smugly. “Since I already destroyed your phones...if you were thinking about recording what I was going to say.”

Mark blinked at him and licked his cracked lips nervously. He continued listening, just in case there was a clue of who Mr. Yatsukahagi was, or any relevant information that he could use to escape this hell-hole with Shotaro.

Mr. Yatsukahagi peeled off his dark blue jacket and passed it over to his men, then he unbuttoned the sleeves of the dress shirt before rolling them up neatly to his forearm. The big, black spider tattoo that wriggled along his arm threw Mark off and the younger male could only gape in disgust. “Hmm...where should I start the story from…” The bald man tapped his chin rather bemusingly as he devoured the terror and disgust in Mark’s eyes. “Maybe I should start from...how I know about your boyfriend, Nakamoto Yuta.”

* * *

Lines and lines of men spewed out from the headquarter to the underground car parks, where tons and tons of cars were parked. Yuta was adjusting his bulletproof vest from the basement one floor above them, another armory, a glass window surrounding the carpark allowed him to supervise the basement below him. He watched more and more cars of men drive into the carpark.

He knew his father had sent them. He subconsciously wondered if his dad knew about the plan and would approve of him being in the frontline of the attack - something he knew Sir Nakamoto would never do.

“Yuta,” Natsuki marched up to him, “you don’t have to do this,” his voice was edged with tension. Yuta didn’t reply to him but he also took a mental memo about how Natsuki was rarely nervous...until it was anything that involved him or his family members.

“ _Aniki,”_ Yuta called out. _Wow, that felt...weird._ Yuta almost forgot how many years it had been since he last referred Natsuki to his “ _Aniki”..._ maybe he had stopped calling him that ever since they left Japan. “Have you ever treated me like your younger brother?”

“What sort of question is that?” He gave Yuta a crazed look, though half of the surprise came from the rather affectionate term that Yuta had called him...he genuinely thought he would never hear it again. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“Answer me,” Yuta answered dispassionately as he reached for the suit jacket that hung neatly within his reach.

“Of course I did! I still do!” Natsuki yelled out rather exasperatedly, his tone rose an octave. “Why are you asking me this- Fuck that! Yuta, listen!”

The young _Wakagashira_ grabbed onto the Young Master’s shoulder and forced him to look at him. “I said, you don’t have to do this!” There were tears in his eyes as he was faced with Yuta’s piercing and rather chilly eyes. “You are the last hope of this clan! We can’t lose you!”

“And then what?” In a hushed whisper he went on, “Should I let my man sacrifice for _my_ clan? Like the way _Sir Nakamoto_ did to Shotaro’s parents?”

Yuta’s words have obviously rendered Natsuki speechless. Yuta was a natural-born leader. He listened more than he spoke, but when he did speak it was with the kind of even-paced certainty that clan members listen to. He was never quick to judgment, always considered every angle first, and he was above all compassionate in his ways. He strove to do no harm in all he did. When it came to the tasks he always pushed himself to the limits. Natsuki knew they'd be nothing without Yuta. He was aware of how different he was from Sir Nakamoto and he was the glue that held the clan members together - he was sure the clan leader saw that in him too.

* * *

Tears spilt over and flowed down his face like a river escaping a dam, and it was surprising that he still had water left in his body. His head was spinning and threatening to explode. Everything hurts. His chest hurts.

He came to learn that he had been sitting right in front of the man, no, the monster who had tortured his boyfriend and taken his family away from him. He was the bastard that Yuta had hated with his entire existence and guts. His mind was clouded with pain, his heart grew cold and numbed with pent up emotion. He felt clogged with pain and anger, hurt, and fear. All he could do was...to cry…. _How useless of me..._

“How could you...how could you do this to him,” His eyes bled with pain, chest heaved rapidly with heavy panting. “You’re inhumane...you’re a monster…”

“You call me inhumane? You call me a monster? You wanna know what that bastard son-of-a-bitch Nakamoto Clan did?” Mr. Yatsukahagi ridiculed, he leaned back to the chair and scorned Mark. “They killed off my entire West Sector! My most established sector in Japan!” He roared and gazed intently at Mark, who flinched at the sudden volume.

“Those old foxes,” This boss sneered, voice dripped with spite. “Those old foxes, Masafumi Kawamura and Ichikawa Nakamoto XI had been collecting intels and sneaking around my database and my fortress…” His eyes bulged from his sockets as he snapped back to look at Mark.

“So, tell me, where did those fuckers hide all the evidence?” His mouth formed into an unpleasant twist. “Was it with the Kawamura Clan or the Nakamoto Clan?”

_Shit._ Of course, Mark didn’t know the answer to this. This was the first time he had heard about the fucking USB. Though he had a hunch of where it could be...the secret room that Yuta used as an armory...that should be where it was. Mark felt his face grow pensive as he stared at Shotaro at the back. Some of the guards had tended to him but...it wasn’t enough. His wound had stopped bleeding but he’s still badly injured…. _I need to buy time. Mark, MARK! You need to help Shotaro!_

He swallowed dryly, unable to wet his parched throat. “I...I heard from Yuta-Hyung that your clan was one of the biggest and the most powerful among the _Yakuza_ clans and Mafia clans around the world,” Mark spoke in a tone that was clearly managed, and he observed Mr. Yatsukahagi’s expression seemed to clear up a little from the unanticipated compliments. “So why are you afraid of them having the evidence of what you had done...or are still doing…?”

Mark’s stomach contracts into a tight ball. He silently prayed that Mr. Yatsukahagi did not take offense to the question asked.

The boss’s square jaw tensed visibly and his lips pursed by suppressed fury. “The United Nations has caught on to us recently…wait- Why am I telling you this,” His face turned red then purple, fire raged through his eyes as he realized how Mark had fooled him. He grabbed Mark’s arm with ruthless pressure and impelled the dagger forward. “Speak, where did they hide the USB and the rest of the evidence,” his words tingled with menace.

Mark’s breath grew thin and ragged. Fuck, his cover had been blown. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMASSSSSS!! HAVE A GOOD ONE!
> 
> Leave more comments, I love you guys!
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	28. TSUCHIGUMO (PART III)

“Speak, where did they hide the USB and the rest of the evidence,” his words tingled with menace.

He gotta lie. Mark didn’t have a choice. He needed to lie to drag this out for Yuta’s arrival. “He...he hid that in the…” He stammered, expression was tight with strain. Mark was a crap-shit-liar. Everyone knows this. His ear reddens and he stutters every time he does. He stole a glance at Mr. Yatsukahagi, who had begun to frown deeper, in annoyance and suspicion.

“Bring him over,” The boss whipped his head behind and pointed at Shotaro’s body, who was fighting all of his will to stay conscious. The guards dragged his lifeless body over to where Mark was and Mark could only watch him with fear and concern as if any meandering with his body could have broken off any of his limbs. He turned right back to Mark who flinched under his scrutiny. “I have men surrounding all the headquarters Nakamoto and Kawamura owned, the moment you dared to lie to me,” he flashed Mark a loathsome grin.

“Not just Shotaro,” Mr. Yatsukahagi pointed a gun right above Mark’’s forehead, “you and Yuta would have no chance of living to see the daylight.”

_ Okay, fuck. _

“The clan leader hid it in one of...one of the...the armory...in…” Mark swallowed, sweat trickling from his forehead _. For the sake of Shotaro and Yuta... _ “In...in Korea.”

Mark will have to go down on his knees to beg for Yuta’s forgiveness if he ever stepped out of this hell hole alive.

Mr. Yatsukahagi’s eyes narrowed, scorching his eyes into Mark’s, making it hard for him to back away. “Send in the men,” he ordered with a nefarious grin, a cloud of warning settled over his sinister features. “Kill any men in your way and raid the headquarters, you know what I want.”

“Yes, sir!” The whole group of men hollered in unison.

“All the possible evidence that you can find,” the maniacal grin on the bald man’s face deepened, eyes widened as they glowed with savage fire, “and Nakamoto Yuta’s head.”

* * *

Yuta reloaded his pistols with the ammo sitting in between his thighs. He had been quiet ever since he boarded his car, but that didn’t mean that his heart hadn’t been hammering against his chest to the point it was hurting and his head aching with the tension.

“The last batch of soldiers that just left the headquarter said that the Tsuchigumo army had surrounded the entirety of the outer premise,” Natsuki announced with a strained voice, the lighted screen of his phone illuminated his worried and lethargic face. “It seemed as though this plan was very well thought out by them.”

“Did any of their army see our cars?” Yuta seemed to pause with whatever he was doing, he dropped his hands momentarily before looking up at his  _ Wakagashira _ with a slight frown, deep in thoughts. 

“No, the underground tunnel was well-hidden out of his sight,” Natsuki slid his iPad towards Yuta, little red dots scattered across the map on his screen. He pointed to three particular red dots that were traveling further and further away from the rest of the cluster. “These cars are where Mr. Fukuyama was and all the maids and servants were, going straight back to Japan.”

Yuta looked outside of the window, his eyes twinkled. “That would have meant that the Osaka faction is surrounded too,” he took a deep breath before continuing. “Notify the soldiers in Japan, order them to abandon the headquarter to go straight to the training ground through the underground tunnel.”

“Why?” Right after Kentaro, the designated driver stopped the car right in front of the red light, he jerked his head back towards Yuta, eyes widened in surprise. “Isn’t our headquarters the priority?”

“We won’t last an hour fighting with the  _ Tsuchigumo _ army,” Natsuki explained, he quietly bit on the tip of his thumb. “The biggest priority now is to save Mark and protect Sir Nakamoto at the training ground.”

Yuta looked at the iPad again. He stared at the three separated dots intensely. “All the evidence and the USB drive are safe with Mr. Fukuyama, right?”

“Along with all the hidden armory of your weapons and photographs, yes,” His  _ Wakagashira _ confirmed before retracting his iPad.

That’s it. Yuta looked out of the window again. Either this is the downfall of the Tsuchigumo Clan or the Nakamoto Clan or both. The ambient festive music resounding through the streets, Christmas decorations, and fairy lights in December, was not enough to erase the stain of guilt that bloomed through Yuta. 

He had only ruled the Korea faction for 7 years and he had managed to bring two headquarters down with him. Subconsciously, he knew this was inevitable regardless of who was in power, but...but...even when his father was battling a terminal illness, Yuta could not even do him proud. The guilt was ice in his guts. It could be a hundred degrees out and he'd still be frozen on the inside. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  _ Be strong, Yuta, you can’t give in to it yet. _

“Natsuki, is everything in the headquarters prepared?” Yuta asked, no one could see it but his jaw was clenched tight. He grabbed the iPad resting on Natsuki’s lap and scrolled through the screen. “Even deep in the armories and training gyms?”

The young  _ Wakagashira _ nodded, tension heavy. “All prepared. When shall we detonate the explosives?”

“We’ll take cues from the men from the Kawamura clan, make sure they are all locked inside the headquarters before we detonate them,” Yuta watched Natsuki nod in acknowledgment before placing his hand over Kantaro’s shoulder, who tensed up obviously. “How long more do we have till we reach Ulsan?”

Kentaro glanced at the dashboard before meeting Yuta’s hard gaze through the rear mirror. “Exactly an hour and 25 minutes.”

“Take all the shorter routes, take all the back alleys and cut-throughs,” he licked his lips as he snatched the iPad from Natsuki. “If you turn in from the left exit and access via this road we can reach within an hour.”

Kentaro glanced at the direction Yuta pointed and felt a cold shiver dipping through his spine like electricity. It was all deserted and mountainous...Yuta was clearly going all out for this.

* * *

The wait was the shittiest feeling Mark had ever experienced. Mr. Yatsukahagi had been wandering restlessly around the room, occasionally yelling into his phone with his guards in Japanese and Mark couldn’t understand how limited his Japanese was. Shotaro’s eyes were closed and his breathing was faint, almost to the point that Mark could almost not see it if he didn't observe carefully.

“Sho- Shotaro, stay conscious please,” Mark whispered, his breath rather irregular, struggling against the chains trying to scoot closer to Shotaro. “Shotaro, answer me.”

Shotaro coughed a little, but even such small movements were hurting him. His features scrunched up together, and his brows knitted together. “I’m….I’m okay…” he whispered, barely loud enough for Mark to hear him. “Let...let me rest a little while...I’ll be...I’ll be okay…”

“Okay,” Mark breathed out, his eyes were burning and tears were threatening to fall. It was hard for him to watch Shotaro be in pain. Remorse. If only he had listened to Shotaro...both of them wouldn’t have ended up like this. “Okay, tell me if it gets unbearable…”

“What do you mean it’s empty?” Mr. Yatsukahagi screamed into the phone, this time in Korean. Mark’s head snapped up. “Not even a single guard?”

_ Em...empty…? Ho...how?  _ Mark watched the boss and his guards moving around the room and he held his breath, the color quickly draining from his face. He had no idea what was going on. He watched the boss march up to him, nostrils flaring and cheeks flaming with anger. Mark’s stomach churned, fingers digging right into his palm and his fist clenched so hard that his muscles were hurting both of his arms.

Mr. Yatsukahagi stomped towards Mark, stooped down, and used his hands to grasp at Mark’s throat, leaving him with only  _ sufficient  _ air for survival. Still, Mark struggled to breathe. The boss’s eyes were red with anger, agitation, and annoyance, sneering at Mark down his nose. “How dare you lie to me.”

“N-no! I’m not!” Mark clawed his fingers at his hands uselessly and used his last breath to scream and defend himself. He’s fucked.  _ So, so fucked. _ “It's true!”

Veins in Mr. Yatsukahagi’s neck stood out in livid ridges; the younger male could no longer make out if it was his face that was glowing red with anger or that his vision was blurring red. Either way was not a good sign. “You said it’s in the armory, but no one was there anymore,” he gritted out.

Mark was screaming silently, gasping for breath. He shook his head vigorously, trying to explain that he had no idea. “Then die,” was the last words Mark heard before he felt the fingers around his throat tightened, cutting off his air supply. His face began to turn into a sickening color as his sight started to close in on him.

Before he lost consciousness, a loud, single, sharp explosion went off, Mark felt the grip on his neck gone before the echo of an ear-splitting "BANG" carried on for a good minute. He gulped and gasped for breath as he ducked his head down to his chest, eyes squeezing shut.

When he finally opened his eyes...if there’s a word Mark could use to explain...it would be “chaos.” There were men all over the place...all of them doing different things. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. He focused on the group of men right in front of him. The men in black suits elbowed the men in dark blue suits in the face and a distinct  _ crack  _ could be heard. He winced, watching the man fell head-first to the floor.

Men were fighting each other. Some of them brawled fist to fist, some...had weapons...all sort of weapons. Knives. Melee. Baseball bats. Taser flashing. Everything...is everywhere and Mark could only watch. Then, he saw from a far distance, there were more men with pistols...it was all very overwhelming. But Mark recognized the black suits and the pins on their collars.  _ Nakamoto soldiers. _

Something wet was seeping into his pants. Mark hadn’t noticed the goosebumps creeping on his arms until now. Right in front of him were, not one, but two unconscious bodies. One belonged to Shotaro and the other….Mr. Yatsukahagi. A bullet wound in his chest, eyes shut yet his mouth wide open. Mark ushered his dark eyes shut, he couldn’t scream. When he once again opened his eyes, all he could do was open his mouth to find that even words had deserted him. He mustered all of the courage in him and looked down again.

His blood had poured as easily as water from a garden hose in a steady but dying rhythm. The once scarlet pool had turned brown on the damp concrete, clotting as if it could still save the man who lay cold within it. Gunpowder mixed with the vile pungence that smothered his senses and suffocated his breath. He wanted to vomit.

“Mark!” He heard a  _ very familiar _ voice called out. A voice almost too soothing, too calming, and too strangely melodic amongst the havoc. His head snapped towards Yuta who was sprinting straight towards him, guns in both of his hands. Natsuki followed closely behind him, he, too, had guns in his hands, and more guns stuffed at his sides in the holsters.

“Hyung!” Mark shrieked at the top of his lungs, eyes burgeoning with tears. When Yuta reached a hearing distance, Mark jerked his head towards Shotaro. “Save him first, please!”

Yuta shot Natsuki a knowing look before speeding for Mark, kneeling right beside him, a soft, concerned arm behind his back. “Mark, are you okay?” He asked, voice dripping with worry and remorse. Yuta moved closer with those eyes that stared so deeply into his own.

"Yea, I’m fine," Mark’s breathing became softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as soft as the morning light. His body squirmed just a little as his muscles relaxed. “Yuta-Hyung, I’m...I’m fine.”

“Good, let’s get you out of here,” Yuta breathed out shakily. He broke off the eye contact and dived straight to the chains behind Mark’s back. His fingers were shaking, rattling the chains.  _ Yuta, fuck! Nakamoto Yuta! If you don’t get a grip of yourself right here! _ He studied the lock and licked his lips.  _ Yes, you have taken lessons before, breathe, Yuta breathe. Get the fucking needle and unlock this shit. _

Mark watched Natsuki pull out an occlusive dressing from his jacket and used it to bandage the wounds on Shotaro, who was now resting his head on top of Natsuki’s thigh that was in a seiza position.  _ Yes, Shotaro will be okay. _

Yuta had managed to unlatch the shackles on Mark’s wrist. He almost fell face forward as the center of his weight shifted and he lost his balance. Yuta managed to catch him right before that could happen. The younger male practically scrambled to his knees, pouncing right onto Yuta for a hug, his heart stumbling over its own rhythm. Yuta returned the hug with the same desperation.

“Mark! You need to leave, right now!” Mark heard Natsuki’s voice, there were panic and a sense of emergency in his voice.  _ Fuck. _ He pulled away unwillingly and stared at Yuta. He didn’t care if the tears were pouring. Fuck those were the last thing he could give a shit about. He clung onto Yuta’s arm.

“Hyung, leave with me!” He cried out. Mark knew, somehow, that Yuta wasn’t.

Yuta grabbed onto Mark’s cheeks with both of his hands, fingers carefully avoiding the cut on his cheeks, and pulled him firmly, yet tenderly into a kiss. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment.

When he pulled away, there was a smile on both of their faces. Yuta ached when he saw Mark smiled. He knew that would be the last time he ever saw something this beautiful. Yuta would do anything, literally  _ anything _ , to leave this god-forsaken-place with Mark, to escape this turmoil...but he can’t. He wanted to be there with him. But he can’t leave. And he knew this ache would stay with him till his last breathing moment.

Yuta’s expression softened to something that looked like he was in pain before they morphed into something harder, colder...and expressionless. He let go of Mark and curled his fingers around the younger male’s wrist before tugging his hand off his arm.

“Mark, you need to leave,” Yuta commanded, there was no feeling in the way he spoke, except authoritatively...like Mark was his soldier...or even worse, a stranger. It hurt him.

* * *

Natsuki hauled Shotaro to his feet. “Shotaro, good job on the mission, Mark is alive...and well,” he offered him a smile of assurance and stroked his head, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “One last mission for you, are you ready?”

Shotaro swallowed painfully, holding onto the  _ Wakagashira _ for support. He winced at the pain jolting through his body, one hand clutching his wounded throat. He didn’t want to speak. So he nodded.

“Okay, good,” Natsuki shoved the two pistols into the informant’s hand before patting him on the back and guiding him to right where Mark stood. “Escort Mark out of here to safety, Kentaro is waiting for you.”

Shotaro panicked. It was...rare. “No, no,” he coughed. “No, you guys, leave, let me, let me stay!” he gasped out in pain.

Yuta scrutinized the informant for a bit before he strode up to him and placed a hand over his shoulder. “No you’re not,” he announced. He pulled the golden Nakamoto pin out of his suit jacket and dropped it in Shotaro’s pocket. “You need to live to bring this to my father.”

“No!  _ Aniki!  _ Please!” 

“I said GO!” Yuta shouted. It was probably the first time Mark had heard him yell. “This is an order! Are you disobeying me?”

Shotaro stared right back at him. His lips quivering and his eyes were red. The blank, emotionless expression swept over his face as the realization of the moment gradually seeped in. “No, Young Master.”

“We’ll see you two again,” Natsuki waved them a gloomy good-bye.

And with that, Shotaro grabbed onto Mark and pulled him behind him. Despite being wounded, Shotaro had jaw-dropping speed and strength...almost inhumane. Mark flew through the crowd, mostly because Shotaro was gunning anyone down that was in their way. The sound of the gun going off ripped through Mark’s ears as if he was right next to a fireworks display, listening to it go off, with no protection. But he had no time to dwell over the deafening noises as all he could think off right now was  _ Yuta. Yuta. Fuck, Yuta. _

Mark whirled behind one last time to look at Yuta, who stood rooted to where he was, Natsuki nowhere to be seen, staring back at him. And then- And then Mark….he saw it.

Mr. Yatsukahagi had risen from the ground to his knees, his dark blue suits now stained to deep purple, and he had...and he had... _ holy fuck. HOLY FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!  _ He had stabbed Yuta straight in the chest.

“Yu-Yuta-Hyung!” he shrieked, and then he halted to a stop, stood as if paralyzed from the neck up, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. “Shota-Shotaro! Yuta-Hyung, he- he was stabbed!”

“We need to go!” The informant, as if he hadn’t heard what Mark had just yelled, repeated. Once again, using more force to drag him out of the factory, not even turning his head to look behind him.

“Yuta-Hyung!” Mark screamed again. This time realization had finally dawned on him. He attempted to break free from Shotaro’s death grip to run back. Through all the tears clouding his eyes, the flying and dying bodies, Mark’s eyes were only set on one single thing. And it was Yuta wrestling Mr. Yatsukahagi on the ground, a dagger still in his chest. His head hurts. His cheek hurts. His lungs hurt. But most importantly, his heart hurts. But his struggles only made Shotaro tighten his grapple. Amongst the flailing, Mark tripped over a dead body and dropped down to his knees and held his breath before a gut-wrenching sob tore through his chest. “Yuta-Hyung!” He cried again, crawling to his fours, and attempted to drag himself towards where Yuta was. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to flee, but he remained frozen.

“Mark-Hyung! We need to go!” Shotaro ran back to Mark and pulled him to his feet.

Body wracked with an onslaught of sobs and tears, the last thing Mark could remember seeing before going fully unconscious was Yuta, with his white dress shirt almost fully red and his coat stained with blood and gashed in several places; driven into his chest by a downward blow, the dagger of the Tsuchigumo Clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mark is ok........but at what cost?
> 
> (also, yea, leave some thoughts, some comments :3)
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	29. THE FALL OF TWO CLANS

Mark didn’t know where he was. Except for the fact that he was standing on the steep side of a hill and the scenery before him was breathtakingly beautiful. He looked around him. Grassy, greeny, orangey place. A beautiful meadow, glorified by a rainbow. 

He strolled up slowly, taking all the time in the world to admire and take in the perfection of nature. He took a deep breath. Even the air was fresh.

When he finally reached the clearing, right in the center of the well-trimmed grass and blooming flowers, sat a figure. A figure Mark was very familiar with. His smile widened, happiness radiating off his cheeks and eyes.

“Yuta!” He called out. He picked up his pace and jogged towards the figure. Dark teal hair close to the black, white oversized sweater, one side draping off his shoulder, exposing his warm ivory skin deflecting the golden sunlight. Mark wrapped his arms around him before he even got a chance to turn behind. “Yuta-Hyung, I missed you.”

When Yuta finally looked up to Mark, his hazel eyes were a radiating brown sun-warmed with inner gold. It was stunning. And then he flashed the warm-hearted smile that Mark loved the most. “Mark, you’re here.” He patted the patch of grass beside him. “Sit here with me for a bit.”

Mark scrunched his nose up playfully but complied anyway. He dropped to the ground on his butt before dusting his hands. “I feel like I’m forgetting something,” he commented half-heartedly. The last time he could remember was that...it was December...and Korea was covered in snow and Christmas light.  _ But now...now...it’s autumn…? _ He stole a glance at Yuta, who was staring into a far distance, a slight, gentle smile tugged on his lips. Mark immediately relaxed. Well, who cares about December or Autumn? Yuta was here with him and that’s all that matters, right? 

“You know, Mark, even if I’m not here with you, you need to learn to take care of yourself,” Yuta said. His voice was soft, almost silky. Like a gentle breeze. He looked up slightly at Mark and his eyes softened. He reached over to hold Mark’s hand between his. “Don’t skip your meals, always have adequate rest….and always stay safe.”

There was a tearing pain through Mark’s chest and he didn’t know why. He was suffocating with agony and his eyes were tearing up.  _ Wait...wait, why am I crying? _ “Hyun...Hyung, you’re scaring me, why are you telling me this,” he sucked in a deep breath but the once fresh air only burnt through his lungs now. “Where- where are you going?”

_ “Mark? Are you awake?”  _ There was a loud echoey voice that rang through his surroundings. Like someone had used a megaphone to announce something through the announcement speaker. It hurt Mark’s head, he winced, brows furrowed tightly with pain. The voice, it felt so near yet so distant.  _ What? What’s going on?  _ He squeezed his eyes shut and winced as a sharp pain cut through his skull.

“Mark, I don’t have much time left, I need you to promise me,” Yuta repeated, as if he hadn’t heard the booming voice that Mark had just heard, except this time, there was the worry, fear, anxiousness and...desperation in his eyes. He tugged on Mark’s hand even more forcefully, as if he was in distress, despairingly trying to get Mark’s attention. “Promise me, that you won’t skip your meals, always have enough rest and that...and that you’ll always stay safe.”

_ “Mark, wake up!”  _ The loud voice rumbled again.  _ Huh? _ As if they were trapped in a tiny box with people yelling at him. It was awful.

Mark breathed out with difficulty. Everything about him, from the muscular aches to the emotional pull toward lethargy, this fatigue, overwhelmed him greatly. He pulled himself together, ignoring the voice, he re-focused back to Yuta, who was still watching him. “Yes, I- I promise you.”

_ “Mark! Can you hear me? Mark?” _

__

Mark struggled to look straight. His headache returned, budding palpitation growing into shrubs of needling pain. Almost everything, every tree, every flower...and even Yuta was starting to blur. He pressed his palms against his temple, squeezed his eyes shut. 

Warmth. When Mark opened his eyes again, Yuta had slid his hands over Mark’s cheek. He wiped a tear from his eye and smiled, “It’s going to be okay, trust me,” he whispered. Mark blinked up at him, Yuta’s touch definitely helped him forget the pain momentarily. He swallowed dryly. Yuta was firm and gentle as he pulled Mark in, burning his lips with his mouth.

It was magic, the way his lips connected with his. The world around them was crumbling. It was darkening, melting, and destroyed....but it didn’t matter. The world can go to hell and Mark would willingly live in this moment. When Mark moved his hands to Yuta’s face and caressed his cheeks but…

Emptiness. His eyes snapped open. Lights. It took him quite a while to readjust to the different lightings. It was no longer the open, grassy, flowery meadow on a hilltop. There was no Yuta, no rainbow, and no trees. There was only a huge halogen light above him followed by...wall. Walls. Walls that are simply cream, not peeling or dirty, just cream.

“Mark?” A low voice chimed and a reddish-brown head popped up at the corner of his vision. Lucas was staring straight at him with his huge, concerned eyes. He trudged up to the bed, and Mark followed all of his movement with a stiff neck. “You- you feeling okay?”

A needling headache began behind Mark’s right ear as he struggled to push himself up to a sitting position, Lucas at the side supporting him by the arm. Mark massaged his temples, the super bright light, and the omnipresent smell of antiseptic burned his lungs and gave him a headache. “Where am I?” He croaked out, and then realized the tubes connected to the back of his hands. 

“The hospital,” Lucas replied quietly, as he fixed the blanket covering Mark’s lower body. “Two days ago, you passed out somewhere and were sent here by two men.”

“Two- two days? I’ve been out for two days?” Mark asked with an incredulous expression, holding up a “two” sign with his tubed hand. Lucas nodded and dragged a chair closer to the bed. “Who are the two guys? Are they here?”

“Nope, they left as soon as you were brought in through the A&E,” Lucas answered half-heartedly. He pulled out a bento-box from a paper bag and placed it on the small table in front of Mark. “Here, have some food- Hey!”

Mark had tried to get up but quickly realized how futile it was when he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain lanced through his head and colorful spots flashed in front of his eyes, it felt like his whole body had been beaten and every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache. Lucas shook his head and pushed Mark back into bed gently.

“You have a slight concussion and some muscle tear in your body, stop moving around!” he nagged. Mark sat on the bed, feeling like he had lost his mind. One moment he was sitting in a meadow with Yuta and one moment later...he was in the hospital, a plastic tube inserted into his veins. Then the last image of Yuta, wrestling a bald man with a dagger through his chest invaded his mind. Hot torrents of grief coursed down his face. As more tears came, more thoughts whirled through his head, all he could do was to sit there, both hands over his face, his shoulders trembling.

* * *

Mark sat on the edge of the bed, packing his clothes into the black duffel bag that Lucas had initially brought him. 30 minutes before Johnny and Lucas would come to pick him up. He figured he still had time to watch something on the hospital television before they arrived, so he grabbed the remote control and turned the TV on. Some commercial was playing on it, so he went back to tidying his belongings.

It was weird. Very weird. He was living a normal life, having a lovely junior and a loving boyfriend, and one day he woke up, both of them were gone, missing from his life. He could remember how hysterical he was, the first night he woke up in the hospital. Yuta was completely unreachable, not his phone, not his text - nothing. He couldn’t count the number of days he had attempted to call him, just to be told that his calls would be sent to voicemail, and last night when he tried again...the number was said to be not in use anymore. Yuta had disappeared completely.

“Where’s Shotaro?” Mark had asked Renjun rather carefully that night he had come to visit him. He knew the two of them were always somewhat closer than everyone else. 

Renjun sighed dramatically as he flopped down onto Mark’s bed. “Apparently something had happened to his travel visa and he had gone back to Japan to settle them,” he answered. 

“Oh,” was the only reply he could come up with at that moment. Shotaro was, how could Mark put this? Cryptic? Mysterious? God, he didn’t know about anything anymore. He was so confused and overwhelmed by this.  _ What exactly was Shotaro’s identity? _

The sun streamed through the windows, yet his mind was clouded with grey. It had been like this for the past few days. He wasn’t exactly happy, but neither was he sad. He was constantly tired and lethargic but his brain would be wide awake, shrouded with all the things he didn’t want to see. And yet, it was always Yuta, Yuta and Yuta. Whenever he saw the different pictures of both of them on his wallpapers; that’s when the empty heartache seeped in. Mark wondered how many more of these days would he have to experience before going back to normal.  _ Will it ever go back to how it was before? How ‘normal’ was my normal? _

_ “Following the news of the Ulsan Industrial Complex Explosion Incident, police were able to confirm that there were gang activities that led up to the explosions”  _ that caught Mark’s attention. 

_ Wait- Is that-  _ He dropped the T-shirt that he was holding when he shot up a little too quickly to his feet, wincing at the slight pain on his arm. He held his breath as he waited for the news reporter to continue. 

_ “Up to today, Investigators have yet to find a single victim, and detectives believe that this was an incident not caused by the local gangs...” _ Mark felt himself breathing out a sigh of relief and ran his fingers through his hair with shaking hands.  _ “...Detective will continue to conduct investigations and look into possible suspects…” _

He dropped to the bed and smiled at his reflection in the window right beside him.  _ Yuta...Yuta might be alive. _

“Mark, are you ready to go?” Johnny smiled a huge grin at him as Lucas and he strode in. Lucas grabbed the duffel bag and offered Mark a helping hand.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, it’s not that much of a huge deal,” Mark waved him off.

Johnny laughed at him heartily. “Don’t want to see you falling on your face.”

Mark trudged down the hospital corridor with his eyes shining and his inner child skipping along in his mind. As long as Yuta hadn’t been pronounced dead, Mark will keep on being hopeful. Yes, it will stay that way.

* * *

Mark woke up again. He couldn’t sleep past four hours into the night. It was almost a routine for him by now.

Sometimes he dreams about lying inside Yuta’s sturdy embrace, taking in his easing fragrance of body wash and shampoo; sometimes he dreams about the warmth of Yuta’s hands, the way his long, pretty fingers curled around his hands; most of the time, he dreams about his smile, sometimes cheeky and mischievous, but most of the time, extremely healing and sweet. 

Tonight, he sat there, tears pricking his eyes, pale hands trembling with fear and sadness. He had been trying to block out the screams, the fighting,  _ that scene _ , but now it's impossible, the noise ripping his heart.

At first, it was the threats that Mr. Yatsukahagi had given him, but then the scenes progressed and soldiers of the two clans were fighting...and before he could take control over his own dream, Mark was watching Yuta rolling on the floor with Mr. Yatsukahagi, both of them bloodstained, both of them screaming, both of them  _ killing each other _ . Mark wasn’t near them enough to hear it, but the groans of the two men became screams...Mark had his head in his hands, crying endlessly.

_ Stop...stop...don’t think about it...Fuck... _ His pain was an icy wind choking the breath from his lungs and making a noose around his neck. Its savage, bitter blasts cut right to his bones and gripped his brain in it's freezing claws. His heart constricted in its wake as if not sure if it should go on beating.

It had been almost three months...but, why does it still hurt this much?

* * *

How long had it been since that night passed? Exactly one year, 10 months, and 26 days. And why was Mark this clear? It’s because he had been taking notes of it every single day, marking little crosses on the calendar on his study table. Every single day he calls Yuta’s old and not-in-use number  _ just in case _ the number ever finds back to its owner, and every single day he googles Yuta’s name  _ just in case  _ any news about him pops up. It never did.  _ No news is good news,  _ he comforted himself before slamming his laptop shut.

He pulled on a dark blue sweater and ruffled Lucas’s hair as he was walking past him from the back, the latter playing video games on his laptop. “Lucas, do you want anything? I’m going to town.”

Lucas did a double-take at Mark. “Wait- You’re going to town? Do you want me to go with you?” After all, he could never let him go anywhere without being worried like a mother.

“Nah,” Mark shook his head. It was exactly the same day he went on the first date that he had planned with Yuta. He had been doing this every year, reliving and repeating all of the things they had done together for the first time, except now, he did all of them by himself. “I’ll be okay, look I’ve been bulking up,” he tried to flex his arms but his thick sweater made him look extra soft instead.

Lucas raised an eyebrow at him and chuckled at his silliness. Then he stared at him empathetically before smiling up at him. ‘Yuta’ had been a touchy subject between the boys and not bringing him up had been the unspoken rule between all of them that even ruthless, no-fucks-given Chenle had chosen to abide by. Mark hadn’t disclosed much to them except for the fact that Yuta had to return to Japan for an indefinite amount of time and he suspected that the boys had taken that as his way to say that they have broken up but no one had ever clarified it with him so he didn’t bring it up too. “Have fun, alright?” Lucas called out and waved to him. “Call me if you need my help or anything, I’ll break their tendons for you.”

“Sweet,” Mark commented with an amused grin. He waved back. “Bye, I’ll see you in the evening for dinner.”

* * *

Mark sat right at the back of the bus and pushed his hair back with one hand and ruffled his hair, fixing his rather messy hair using his phone camera as a mirror. He yawned tiredly as he leaned right back into the seat, snuggling into his fluffy sweater, blinking tiredly at the ever-changing scenery outside. On this autumn day, his thoughts turn scarlet and gold, and all of those reminded him of how Yuta’s eyes glowed golden under the reflection of sunlight. It was all very, very pretty. He could feel a searing pain in his heart, his eyes welled up but he refused to let it fall.  _ No, stay optimistic. _

Before his thoughts could run wild, a lady in a lilac hand-knitted sweater, presumably in her early-50s, despite the bus being almost empty, chose to sit right beside Mark. Not that he minded, but he just felt a little confused and a little embarrassed because of his red-rimmed eyes.

He eyed her from the side, and  _ oh- oh! _ All of the books and papers were in Japanese. Out of curiosity, Mark tilted his head subtly, in an attempt to read whatever was written on them. Truth be told, he had spent most of his free time honing his Japanese language proficiency. Part of it was because he had Japanese classes as electives, another reason was that the book that Shotaro had recommended him was sitting on his bookshelf for an embarrassing amount of time, so he took a lot of time to learn the language he once promised two men that he would.

“Best South Korea Travel Guide,” Mark mouthed it. Surprised and excitement washed over him as he realized the lady sitting beside him was a tourist. There was a paper, and a newspaper folded neatly at the back of the book and Mark continued to peep at those.

He supposed he was fidgeting too much because the lady whipped her head around to stare at him with a questioning look. Mark stared straight back at her with a blank look before smiling awkwardly like a child caught cheating in a test. He rubbed the back of his head ungainly and looked away. When he thought the saga was over, the yellow ‘Best South Korea Travel Guides’ was slid to him. He took the book subconsciously and looked at the lady with an odd look.

_ “Nihongo ga hanasemasu ka?” _ She asked with a kind, motherly smile. Mark blinked at her stupidly before whatever she said just registered in his mind. “Can you speak Japanese?” was what she asked. Mark nodded but gestured to her a “so-so” hand sign, grinning sheepishly. 

Mark flipped through the book rather nonchalantly, only looking briefly through the content when the huge words, printed in bold on the newspaper caught his eyes. To be more accurate, the two huge “NAKAMOTO” in kanji, on the front page of the newspaper, had caught his eyes. He dropped the book to his laps and tapped the lady on the shoulder urgently, but he remembered to gently gestured her for the newspaper in her hands. She passed it to him wordlessly, albeit quizzically.

“ **THE FALL OF TWO CLANS: NAKAMOTO CLAN & ALAS, THE SCUM OF SOCIETY, THE TSUCHIGUMO CLAN**” The paper read. Mark rubbed his eyes. He read it over again. It read the same. His heart began to hammer against his chest as a lump quietly rose to the back of his throat, making everything rather sour and painful to swallow. 

_ Yuta...Yuta might...not be alive. _ Mark licked his lips. They say the pain dulls with time, and that things will get better. But it didn’t. The needling, tearing, and searing pain didn’t go away. The heavy feeling only got heavier. Sometimes the pain crushed him and left him incapable of everything. It left him broken- in and out. The tears wouldn’t roll down, and the screams wouldn’t escape past his quivering lips. 

And then this time, it was the lady who tapped Mark. Mark whirled his head around to her. She pointed to the exit to the door and smiled, her pretty kind eyes curved into little moons, signaling that it was her turn to alight. Mark bowed apologetically and immediately jumped into action, folding the newspaper neatly and returning it back to her.

He waved her goodbye and watched her small frame leave the bus.

_ Thud. _ Something fell to the ground-  _ Oh no! _ It’s her travel guide!  _ Argh, Mark, you dumbass!  _ He dived forward to press the “Stop” button on the bus and rushed out of the bus, running towards the opposite direction of where the bus was traveling.

The lilac sweater was rather easy to spot from a far distance, especially when it was almost too early for normal people to travel around town. Amidst all the running, Mark flipped open the cover.  _ Ah! Thank god it’s a Kanji that I recognized. Her name means ‘Spring’. _ Mark smiled rather proudly at himself as he yelled out confidently to the lady walking into a complex. 

_ “Chotto matte kudasai! Haru-San!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly longer chapter....and oh WOW! HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVE!!!
> 
> Have a good day & week ahead! Thanks for all your very encouraging support, leave more comments!!
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	30. CHERRY BLOSSOMS BLOOMING AFTER THE FIRST RAIN IN SPRING

Mark pushed open the glass door and stepped into the cafe, panting in the cold autumn air. The mute turquoise-greenish interior was very cozy and warm even though it was close to being empty. Mark sniffled as he scanned the room, then he found the person he was looking for.

“Jaehyun-Hyung,” he greeted with a cheeky salute. “I’m back again.”

Jaehyun looked up from the small window on the pale light green wall that connected the dining area and the kitchen and smiled his dimpled-smile upon hearing his name from a familiar figure. “You’re...15 minutes late this year,” He answered after stealing a glance at his watch. He pushed the huge door open and strode out of the kitchen, drying his wet hands on his black apron. 

“I was being a dumbass this morning,” Mark sighed dramatically as he walked up to the older male with a 'bro' handshake and a shoulder bump. “A Japanese lady thought I was interested in her tourist guide and lent it to me, right? And I had the audacity to forget returning to her when she alighted.” Mark sighed again and knocked his own head twice, mumbling “stupid me” softly at the side.

Jaehyun watched him with an amused smile. “Alright, alright, fill me in the rest later, go take a seat,” he ushered with a hand behind Mark, pushing him gently towards the nearest table. “The usual?”

“Mmhm, avocado toast and-”

“Ice tea,” Jaehyun interjected with a knowing grin and a half-hearted wink. “I remember.”

* * *

“Is business usually this slow?” Mark commented after Jaehyun placed the food on the table and then took the seat across him. He vaguely remembered how crowded this cafe had been and how many more waiters and waitresses were working in this place, but now, only Jaehyun was here, and he was both the chef and the waiter. Something didn’t seem right.

Jaehyun leaned back to the chair and shook his head. “It had been like this since eight months ago, you see that new cafe over there?” He pointed to a cafe across the street, and Mark followed the direction of where he was pointing at and peered at it. It was a cartoon character-themed cafe, looking through the full-invisible glass, it was obvious that the entire cafe was filled to the brim with customers, on top of that, the queue just to enter the cafe was insane, Mark couldn’t even see where the line ended. “Ever since they were here, customers have been rare for us, it was almost empty for the whole day.”

Mark grimaced as he took a sip out of his ice tea. “That’s really bad. Like BAD bad,” he emphasized, while Jaehyun nodded. “Where are all the other staff? And chefs?”

“Laid off,” Jaehyun hopelessly shrugged. “This is probably my last month working here before this cafe closes down.”

“What?!” Mark shrieked, slamming down his cup so hard that some of the tea spilled out, soiling the table. “Why- Is this cafe really going to close down?!”

“That’s what the boss told me,” Jaehyun winced slightly as he wiped the table with a serviette. “You won’t be able to come here next year and I need to find a job too.”

Suddenly he didn’t have any appetite anymore. Mark was really looking forward to today’s plan, but it felt as if the universe had designed itself to bring unfortunate events and news to Mark. He pouted and sat there still, Jaehyun watching him with an empathetic smile even though objectively, he was the one in a more dire position - he was going to be jobless. He patted Mark’s hand comfortingly. “Look at the bright side and...more positive things,” he suggested. “You’re graduating in two months’ times, right?”

Mark nodded and returned him a slight smile. He picked up the toast again. “Yea, some of my friends already found entertainment companies and were preparing to work as a dance choreographer,” he chomped down on the toast before continuing. “I want to work as a producer but,” he sighed and shook his head, “no one wants me, I’ve sent out over 12 resumes.”

Jaehyun held out his fist and chuckled. “We’re on the same boat then,” they fist-bumped. “Introducing you to the jobless culture.”

* * *

Lucas boxer-punched the black Nike hand-held luggage back and smiled stupidly at Mark who had been watching him for a while, tired and annoyed expression as contrasted to Lucas’s bright and happy one.

“How are you so fast at packing even though you have three or four times more clothes than me?” Mark complained as he lied down on his back, heaps and heaps of clothes surrounding him. He had been packing his clothes for the past few days but not only did they not lessen, but his side of the room had also somehow become messier too. Lucas plopped himself down on Mark’s bed and grabbed a handful of clothes from the floor and started folding them. “Have you found any clothes for the graduation ceremony? I haven’t had much luck…”

“Yea, that one,” Lucas pointed to an extravagant red and black suit hanging in front of his wardrobe.  _ Yeap, very Lucas-style.  _ Lucas then clicked his tongue disapprovingly at Mark, “how are you so slow? Even XiaoJun, the slowest person I know, is done packing his pieces of luggage,” Lucas said teasingly, dumping the folded clothes to one side of the bed. “Maybe it’s because you haven’t taken house-chores-101 lessons from Kun-Hyung yet, that man is the embodiment of my mom.”

Mark frowned weirdly at Lucas’s choices of words but chose to keep quiet and watch Lucas from the floor. After five minutes of Lucas folding his clothes in silence, the door burst open with Renjun and Chenle standing outside the room with judgemental looks.

“Hey brats, if you’re free please come in and save your favorite Mark-Hyung with his laundry mess,” Lucas yelled with a mischievous grin. Renjun walked into the room and walked right towards Mark’s bed that Lucas was sitting on while Chenle skipped to Mark’s wardrobe.

“Nah, he can deal with his trash,” Renjun answered snarkily before picking up a few books on Mark’s table. “Oh! Hyung, if you’re not using these books can you give them to me? I might need them for the next semester.”

Mark’s eyes lit up with hope. “Yes, yes, take ‘em all,” he pushed himself up to a sitting position and hugged his knees to his chest. “I was still worrying about what I should do with them.”

“You can return them to Jung Bookstore, they’re donating used books to orphanages,” Renjun replied feebly, still rummaging through Mark’s books and picking out the one he needed. “I heard that Mrs. Jung managed to send Sungchan to a prestige school, can you believe it?.”

Yeap, that was the gossip going around for now. Apparently, Mrs. Jung had managed to become rich or something, but Sungchan had managed to get into an extremely prestigious university once he graduated high school this year. It was a huge deal because the Jung family were known to be struggling to get by five years ago, with their bookstore constantly in debt. Mark usually doesn’t participate in the gossip but he sure knows a lot because Renjun and Chenle were the news receptors of their university - they somehow knew everyone, every scandal, and every hearsay in town.  _ If only they knew what happened to Yuta-Hyung.  _ Mark sighed lethargically before going back to packing his luggage.

Just as things were going smoothly for them, Chenle let out the most dramatic gasp possible, catching attention from all of the other three people in the room. “What! Why do you have Burberry’s limited edition designed blazer in your wardrobe?” He pulled out a black blazer, a golden pin fastened to the collar. “Gosh, you have such good clothes and yet you never once wear them?”

The golden pin. The golden insignia. The golden “NAKAMOTO’ badge. He never thought he'd see it again. Yuta had left it with him that time he visited Mark in school. He was cold and Yuta had wrapped this exact blazer around him. That day was still fresh in his mind. Yuta’s warmth. Yuta’s cologne. And Yuta’s... _ Mark, don’t cry, Mark, don’t cry... _ Yuta’s kiss. A certain pain rekindled. The pain wasn't sharp like needlepoint or a knife, it burnt around his innards better than boiling water. Everything felt scalded and no matter how hard he tried to suppress them again, he was in more pain than he could have ever imagined was possible.

“Ayeeee~” Lucas smiled as punched Mark playfully on his arm. “Look, you got yourself an outfit for grad- Hey, are you, are you okay?”

Mark couldn’t remember how his face must have been but he lowered his head to hide his face and stood up. “I’m,” he sucked in a deep breath. “I’m going to the bookstore now.”

He walked straight to the back of the room and picked up a box of old books. Under the scrutiny of three men, Mark left the room with his head hung low, without a word.

* * *

The pop music that he completed last month would usually crank his joy right up, but he wouldn’t agree to it this time. It hijacked his brain in the most painful and vexing way possible. He bashed the pause button with a stupefying strength, surprising XiaoJun and Lucas who were sitting behind him, both of them on their phones playing mobile games.

If anything, he felt like his brain had morphed into a beehive and every thought in his brain felt like a bumble-bee, buzzing to no end in his brain. He wished that they could all stop and leave his brain for good.

“Mark, you good?” XiaoJun asked rather gently despite not really looking up from his phone. “You wanna talk it out?”

What could Mark say? There was one last month in school before their graduation ceremony and most of the students have managed to be scouted into various entertainment or music companies. Take XiaoJun and Lucas as examples, one managed to further his studies in a theatrical academy and the other scouted into a model agency. As for him? Nothing. Nothing at all. All 23 of his resumes were rendered useless. He wasn’t surprised at all, though. There were as many entertainment companies in Korea as trees in the forest, let alone the number of producers. Probably as many stars in the sky. 

Mark massaged his temples before resting his face in his palms, head hung low. “The idea of post-grad is scaring the shit out of me,” he sighed tiredly. “I really...I really don’t know what to do, the idea of it is…” he took a deep breath. “Is scaring me.”

Xiaojun dropped his phone onto his lap and stared at Mark’s figure empathetically for a bit. “Well, I mean, if it helps, I have an apartment in Ansan, Gyeonggi Province, it’s a bit far but if you don’t mind, you can move in with me…”

“Thanks…” Mark mumbled before rubbing his face forcefully. Housing is a problem but objectively the least of his problem right now. He rolled his chair closer to his laptop and opened up a new browser. “I guess I should start searching for a new job or something...maybe a part-time job or something…”

Yeah, who is he kidding? No one would hire a fresh grad like him when there are so many excellent and experienced producers out there. His academics and CV may look good but ultimately, it’s the past experiences that entertainment companies trust. 

As Lucas was offering Mark some genuine words of comfort, someone knocked on the door to the studio. The three of them stared at each other for a good second before XiaoJun called out a loud “Come in!”

“Mark, Mark, Mark, have you seen this?” The Professor in charge of his club, Mrs. Park ran into the studio with one of her hands holding her laptop. “One of the uprising entertainment companies has reached out to me to look for you.”

Lucas let out the loudest gasp of surprise while XiaoJun flung his phone to the leather sofa behind him, Mark could only stare at her with his eyes wide open with surprise. “What?” He choked out.

Mrs. Park pulled the chair beside Lucas and sat down, the two boys automatically surrounded her and Mark pushed himself away from the table, wheeling himself to where they were. She flashed him an email and Mark squinted his eyes to read the content.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Park...” Mark whispered the first few words and then skimmed past a whole chunk of conventional greeting and polite speeches to look for what he was most curious about.  _ There it is! _ He swallowed nervously before reading out the paragraph. “We are delighted to offer Mr. Mark Lee MinHyung, the position of Music Producer as well as Rap trainer for our artists and trainees under our company the Ai Entertainment.”

Before Mark could express his surprise, Lucas beat him to it. He pretended to choke dramatically before exclaiming “Ai Ent? That’s one of the- that’s of the biggest international entertainment companies out there!”

Mrs. Park smiled giddily, nodding enthusiastically. “Exactly! Mark, you must be ecstatic!”

Mark could only gape at the screen with an unreadable expression. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as the words of the email repeated themselves in his brain. He licked his lips nervously before mouthing the words once more, pleading for reality to set in and slap him out of his too-good-to-be-true daydream...but the impact never came.  _ This...this is real?  _

“Mark, the interview date, look,” Mrs. Park tapped on her screen, snapping Mark out of his trance, her smile didn’t fade. “It’s next Friday, get dressed and I’ll drive you to the company myself!”

Mrs. Park looked even more excited than Mark was, and Lucas and XiaoJun had already guessed that she was curious and enlivened to meet their young CEO, who was rumored to be beautiful and angelic like “Cherry blossoms blooming after the first rain in Spring”. Mark nodded to her stupidly and watched their late 30s Professor skipping out of the room like a teenage girl. He wrapped his fingers into his loose cotton shirt, his heart flooded with both relief, and worry.

* * *

“You should have gelled your hair up! Being neat is the first thing you should take note of when appealing to your future employer!” Mrs. Park nagged. 

She hasn’t stopped ever since Mark had sat in her car and she had nitpicked everything about him from head to his toe. The image of Renjun and Chenle crowding on his bed while XiaoJun and Hendery on Lucas’s bed this morning came flooding back into his mind and it almost made him laugh but he kept his face straight. Times like this made Mark miss Shotaro even more. It would be extra fun for him to be around, having exaggerated baby-ish microexpressions. 

Lucas was tidying his collar for him while Renjun gave him constructive criticisms for his fashion and Chenle could only conjure the snarkiest remarks (out of love). Hendery and XiaoJun had nothing but praises for him but occasionally managed to hide some sarcasm and questionable statements in them. Mark didn’t pursue it but he swore he had heard it.

“Should I gel my hair back?” He asked, looking into the mirror while tousling his hair.

“You look old with your hair gelled back,” Renjun answered while tapping his chin like an educated old man. Chenle nodded, squeezing an “I agree” amidst a hearty yawn.

“Naw, that depends on how you do it,” XiaoJun shrugged with a cryptic smile, “A few juniors had told me that I looked hot with my hair gelled bac- AH! Stop- Stop Stop!”

He couldn’t finish his sentence because Hendery had rolled off the bed cry-laughing as Renjun and Chenle had leaped from Mark’s bed to Lucas’s to tackle and square him up for his narcissistic statement.

Lucas shook his head, muttering a soft “childish” under his breath before smiling hugely at Mark.  _ You look like a child too _ . Mark wanted to laugh at him but he didn’t, he just returned him the same friendly grin. “Just keep your hair as it is,” Lucas suggested. “Simple is the best.”

His brows lifted up in a victimized manner subconsciously when Mrs. Park peered at him again as the car stopped right before the red light. “But if there’s anything that you did right was to wear this blazer.”

_ Wait. _ Did she just compliment him? Mark smiled involuntarily as he pulled his collar straight. It was almost painful to even think about how many times Yuta had saved his ass, even when he was not around all this while. He let out a small sigh that went unnoticed by Mrs. Park. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

She parked the car right in the middle of the cosmopolitan area. Mark rolled out of the car with great difficulty wearing a formal suit. His pants might be a little too tight for his liking. Time to get a new one or something. Like a jungle of steel and glass, the skyscrapers grew right out of the concrete metropolis. He stood at the entrance of the building as the valet parker took the car key from her. The skyscrapers towered above them as great monoliths of concrete and glass, Mark could only look around him with awe. There was an explosion in his brain... the good sort... the type that carried more possibilities than he could be conscious of... but there were hundreds of ideas there in that buzz of electricity... he could feel it.

Mrs. Park patted his shoulder with excitement. “This is my first time coming here too! It’s so pretty, right?” she squealed before clasping her hands together. “Shall we go in?”

Mark nodded and patted his own chest as if to calm himself down. Then the two of them walked into the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ IF YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW
> 
> Anyway, we're finally nearing the end of this story! I hope everyone is still following close with the storyline!
> 
> Would love to know your opinions so please leave me a comment! ˚❣˚
> 
> Love,   
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	31. THE END

The interior was...expensive and luxurious. Mark stood right smack in the middle of the lobby, slowly taking in all of the decorations and design. Sparkly chandeliers and classical statues, white marbled flooring, and expensive paintings, decorated with speckled fine-art in gold. It all looked extra sophisticated and high-class, and it made Mark feel worthless and economical, considering how his pants were bought from a knock-off store in a night market and his only expensive blazer was gifted by Yuta.

However, for some reason, the _ perfect mixture of golden traditional contemporary Japanese art _ on white glass and marble background gave Mark a surprising sense of familiarity, like he was...home…?  _ No, wait, what? _ He could swear to God that he had never stepped foot into this establishment before...but why, why does it feel like he had?

He was forced to brush off this weird feeling when the lady at the counter approached them with a professional smile, her hands trained to rest in front of her abdomen respectfully. “Good morning Sir and Madam, is there anything I can help you with?” She asked politely. Mark stared awkwardly at Mrs. Park and expected his professor to do the talking, like a child in the doctor's office with his mom.

“We, uh, we are looking for the...CEO…?” She asked with uncertainty. Mark could tell that she, too, was losing the initial confidence just by standing in such a grand and high-class lobby. She fumbled out her phone and opened up the email for the lady, who waited patiently for them with a polite smile. Mrs. Park flipped the phone towards her. “Here.”

The lady skimmed through the email before returning it to Mrs. Park. Her smile brightened and her eyes twinkled enthusiastically. “Of course, Mrs. Park and Mr. Lee, we have been expecting you,” she bowed respectfully, which made Mark and his professor return the bow out of habit. “Allow me to contact his secretary, please wait for a moment.”

The two of them nodded obediently before casting each other a small smile of relief. At least things have been going smoothly.  _ Way better than I thought it would go. _ They waited for a while before there was a crisp clicking of boots against the lavish tiles from the inside of the lobby. Both Mark and Mrs. Park whipped their heads towards the direction of the sound, one out of nervousness, another clearly out of anticipation.

“Oh...oh my God…” Mark heard Mrs. Park whisper-gasp in surprise, covering her mouth with both of her hands. He didn’t even need to see her to know that she had little hearts engulfing her irises. But Mark didn’t share the same sentiments.

If anything, he had morphed into the human embodiment of question marks. Jaehyun. Yes, Jaehyun. The older man he had known for a long period of time had just walked out of the lift and towards them. Dark brown hair slicked back, leaving a few strands falling stylishly over his beautiful eyes, black expensive suits that looked exactly tailor-made for his well-built body, one hand in his pocket as he strode confidently, a slight smile showcasing his cute, now charming dimples.  _ What the fuck? _

This is not the neighborhood heart-throb barista Jaehyun he had known...this is...this is... _ An actor? A model?  _ Whoever this man was, it’s definitely not the man Mark had known. “Jaehyun-Hyung?” Mark blurted out with his eyes wide, an unbelievable smile tugged on the corner of his lips as he watched him closely.

Mrs. Park eyed her student weirdly but paid not much attention to him as the suited man neared them.

“Good morning, Mr. Lee and Mrs. Park,” Upon hearing his name from Jaehyun’s familiar voice, Mark broke into a bigger grin. Jaehyun had flashed him his good-natured smile, eyes twinkling  _ mischievously  _ and  _ knowingly _ to him. Jaehyun held out his hand to Mrs. Park, who gladly shook it before he outstretched it to Mark, who took it reluctantly, but also with much amazement. “I’m Jaehyun and I’ll be walking you up.”

_ Still the same Jaehyun he knew. _ He grinned wordlessly and matched his pace with Jaehyun, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “Hyung,” he whispered loud enough just for them to hear. “Didn’t you want to introduce me to the jobless culture?” he teased as he subtly elbowed him on the arm.

Jaehyun smiled back knowingly, his eyebrows raised as he watched him with amusement. “Sorry, I’ll take back my words,” he coughed strategically. “I’m introducing you to the employed culture.”

* * *

_ 2nd floor... 5th floor...10th...24th... _ Mark couldn’t help but eye the red, digital numbers as they increased, his heart elevating as the lift traveled upwards. Finally, the floor stopped on the 27th floor. Jaehyun turned back to them and smiled, outstretching his arm and motioned them to alight. “We’re here,” he announced.

Mark glanced at Mrs. Park and noticed how she was equally nervous as he was, but she still forced out a smile and stepped out of the lift. Mark followed suit. Meeting rooms with wooden doors filled the corridor and he swallowed nervously and his toes curled in shoes subliminally while walking behind Jaehyun and Mrs. Park. As they turned into the right corridor, Mark halted in his steps. Because... _ Holy Fucking Shit. _

At the end of the corridor was the biggest room that the floor had. Beside the nameplate with a “CEO” was...a _ double paneled door with a pair of huge golden dragon plaques carved onto it _ … No, he wasn’t wrong. He had  _ seen _ this before. But where- 

A single spark stroked and it lit up like the fuse meeting electricity in a lightbulb. Mark gulped down. It hurt him physically to even think about it.

_ Nakamoto Manor. _ Mark sucked in a deep breath. Followed by another before he squeezed his eyes shut. Probably it was the unexpectedness building on top of his nervousness. Mark darted his eyes straight to his feet, struggling to keep his fidgety body under control. His body grew tense to the point he was clearly shaking. It wasn’t just his body that was shaking. His hands were shaking too.

Mistaking it as normal nervousness, Mrs. Park grabbed onto his hands and offered him a comforting smile. “It’s going to be okay,” she mouthed. Mark could only return her with an equal moderate-yet-feigned smile. He really didn’t know what he had in his mind.

Part of him wanted it to be real, wanted it to be  _ Yuta, _ but at the same time, he acknowledged that the higher the expectation, the greater the disappointment.  _ Mark, stop daydreaming. It’s not him. Stop it. Wake up. _ He let out a firm breath before slapping himself on both of his cheeks. Hard. He shook himself loose and jumped on the spot twice to calm himself down.  _ Keep those thoughts out of your mind. You can do this. You need this job. _

Jaehyun knocked on the door twice, “Sir, I’ve brought Mrs. Park and Mr. Lee,” he announced. There was a soft “come in” from inside the room and the young secretary smiled at the two of them before pushing the door open for them. “Here you go.”

Mrs. Park walked in first with Mark behind her, following them was Jaehyun, who closed the door on his way in.

There was another lean suited man back-facing them, he was leaning against the dark brown executive desk. The exposure from the sun had almost engulfed him in light, but his squared shoulder and autocratic frame had managed to construct a picturesque Chiaroscuro art piece. At first, it wasn’t evident against the strong, overbearing sunlight, but when Mark finally managed to focus his eyes on the figure…

Slicked-back metallic dark turquoise hair, one hand habitually in his pocket, and the perfect posture. Sensing his guests in his office, the young CEO turned around.

Time stopped. Mark held his breath. Everything around him, living or not, breathing or not, all come to a still. Honey-almond eyes and a few loose blue strands of hair fell on top of them and a high nose bridge. He was expressionless when he first turned behind and Mark could vaguely hear Mrs. Park gasping. He made the landscape behind him look like a backdrop. He was so beautiful that he looked like a model in a painting. Mark wished he could be as expressive. 

A stopper had stuck in Mark’s throat, and the ache traveled from his esophagus all the way to his nose, his heart was hammering so hard against his chest. He felt like the pain had crushed him in and claimed his body for its own.

When his honey-brown eyes met Mark’s dark brown irises, he flashed him his signature dazzling smile. The one that Mark found extremely healing and soothing to watch. And without him realizing, the rims of his eyes had burnt red, and a single tear fell from his eye.

“Good morning, Mrs. Park and Mr. Lee,” he greeted, crinkling his eyes into crescents before holding his hands out to the professor. She blinked up at him with admiration before grabbing him with both of her hands, as if she was a young teenage fan meeting her long-awaited idol. “I’m Yuta Nakamoto and I was the one who reached out to you regarding working with Mr. Mark Lee.”

“Good- Good morning, Mr. Nakamoto,” She chirped, stammering and giggling. “Uh- Yea! This is my student Mark, and he will be graduating soon.” The way her voice was too high and chirpy for her age was almost eyebrows raising but Mark wasn’t really in that frame of mind to do so.

Yuta nodded to her politely and had to pull his own hand away from her a little more forcefully before directing it to Mark. “Good mor-” Yuta paused. The tear that slid down Mark’s cheek, reflecting the sunlight like a morning dew had not gone unnoticed. Yuta’s facial expression stilled, but only momentarily, almost in a flash, his dazzling smile returned and he turned to Mrs. Park. “Ma’am, would it be okay if you leave us for a bit?”

Jaehyun picked up the social cue immediately. “Mrs. Park, allow me to give you a tour around the company?” He smiled sweetly at her. Mrs. Park perked up as she melted herself inside Jaehyun’s deepening dimples. 

“Yes, please!”

Yuta watched both of them leave before turning back to Mark, who had his eyes still trained on him. Stunned. Scared. Surprised. Surreal. All of these emotions were boiling in his eyes. Yuta offered him a slight innocent smile, his eyes darting to the floor before right back at Mark again. “Do you want to take a walk with me on the rooftop?”

* * *

Mark didn’t walk beside Yuta, he trudged silently behind him and kept a certain distance between them, even to the point of stopping in his track and reducing his speed whenever Yuta did. If Yuta had noticed anything, he had chosen not to speak about it, Mark wasn’t even going to lie, he didn’t know what he was feeling.

Overwhelming was an understatement. Entrancement, excitement, fear, interest, joy, nostalgia, and relief, yes he felt that. But beyond all of this, he felt pain, confusion, anxiety, awe, and also  _ craving _ . His little body had to process all of these emotions and he could physically sense his brain shriveling like a dead flower. It’s not a good sign.

Yuta had brought Mark to the highest floor of the building, which was the 53rd floor. It was a small garden lawn that was closed off to the public, but once they saw that Mark had appeared with their Chief Executive Officer, no words were asked and he was escorted in almost immediately.

Like every floor in the building, the rooftop garden was huge. Yuta pushed a simple bamboo gate covered in vines and moss that stood at the entrance and held it wide open for Mark to enter. Tranquil was the first few things that took over Mark as he first stepped into the natural scenery of the garden, taking all the awful feelings he had in him and flooded him with a sense of peace. If not for the urban landscape surrounding them he wouldn’t have known that he was standing right on top of a similar skyscraper. The flooring was laid completely with mosses and gravel, a mini stone lantern and bonsai could be seen ornating the landscape. Mark must have been standing there admiring the surroundings for a little far too long because Yuta had already strode up behind him, his hand gently on Mark’s back and guiding him towards the small path in front of them, made out of squared stone tiles.

His touch must be something magical because the blood woke up Mark’s brain, though he thought himself already awake. Layers of blushes emerged on his cheeks like clouds hovering in a sunset sky, making him duck his head in embarrassment even though he was almost sure that Yuta couldn't see whatever was on his face.

Surrounded by tall bamboos and ornamental boulders, the weather unmistakably turned cooler. Mark covered his eyes and looked upwards. The sun rose to the mid sky and doves cooed in the shade. A small smile spread across his face subconsciously. Yuta stopped in his tracks and stared at Mark. He caught that. Following the direction he was facing, Yuta looked up too. “You know, for the past two years, I was away,” Yuta began, Mark wavered a little before looking at Yuta, mouth slightly apart. “I couldn’t see the sky at all.”

“Huh?”

“I lived in near darkness-” Yuta was about to ramble on until he caught the way Mark was looking at him. Eyes completely clueless and at a loss. He smiled comfortingly at him before standing straighter and slid his arm behind Mark, and coiling his waist between his arms. “Let’s go sit at the pavilion.” The butterflies came in full force as Mark was pushed forward, blushing profusely he had to bite the insides of his cheek to calm down. 

They walked through the garden until a mini stoned arch bridge that sat sturdily above a small stream. Mark glanced around. At the end of the bridge was a wooden pavilion, one that looked almost identical to the one at Nakamoto Manor, but this one was significantly smaller. And behind the pavilion was an artificial waterfall.

Even though Mark now knew how and where to go, and he was sure Yuta knew it too, the grasp around his back did not loosen, as if doing it was the most obvious and matter-of-fact. Mark would have agreed to this two years ago, but definitely not today.

“How have you been for the past years, Mark?” was the first question Yuta asked once they were seated comfortably across each other. Yuta was watching him in a way that reminded him of the first time they had met each other at the cafe, and weirdly enough, Mark was blushing the same way he did then, too.

Mark licked his lips nervously before glancing away, fiddling his fingers under the stone table in between them. “I’m…” He forced out a small smile, one that Yuta could easily see through. “I’m okay…”

“Very convincing,” Yuta chuckled, his eyes twinkled in the way Mark had dearly missed. His heart clenched a little. Then Yuta stopped laughing, and he looked at Mark with remorse, guilt, and sadness. Those were raw feelings, Mark recognized.

“I...I was away…” Yuta continued quietly.

Mark didn’t know how to answer that. He sat there quietly, fingers still fiddling and watching Yuta, converging all sorts of feelings welled up in his heart. “How- how are you still alive after that!” Mark blurted out.  _ Fuck! _ Yuta’s eyes widened in surprise briefly before his eyes fell and he broke into a hearty laugh. Realizing what he had just said and his unintentional tone, he slapped a palm over his mouth and bowed his head. “So-sorry, I don’t mean it that way!” 

“It’s okay, a lot of things have happened,” Yuta sighed and shook his head, a defeated laugh came out of his mouth before he leaned back into his seat. He crossed his legs and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Would you like to know from the start?”

Mark pressed his lips into a firm line and nodded. He rested both of his arms onto the table and leaned in closer to Yuta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the end really the end? Nope, double updates today!


	32. THE AND

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely trippy chapter! Would really help if you re-read from Chapter 26 to 32, I've been playing with different timelines so.... :D

“Wait!” Mr. Fukuyama grasped onto Yuta’s wrist rather tightly. Stopping him from moving. His pale eyes narrowed. “We’re not done with the planning.”

“But Mark-”

“And what are you going to do once we get to Ulsan? What are your plans?”

Yuta was speechless. And found that he could not meet his eyes. He quietly sat back down.

Mr. Fukuyama eyed him like a hawk before pulling out a piece of paper from his suitcase. Said paper...looked old and ancient, yellow spots were spreading around the corners but overall, the quality looked pretty good. Whoever kept this paper had done a great job preserving it.

“The plan we devised 30 years ago, was to have someone detonate the special explosive belt created by the Kawamura Clan,” Mr. Fukuyama said firmly. “We need to get someone to-”

“Wait,” Natsuki interjected, slamming his palms onto the table as he stood up aggressively. The veins were obviously sprouting from his neck and forehead. “Let me paraphrase this.”

Natsuki gritted his jaw so hard that the veins twitched. “You're saying we need to appoint one man to be a  **suicide bomber** , detonate the bomb in the belt and kill off both clans at the same time,” he heaved out with suppressed anger.

“You want,” he continued, breathing in deeply. Deep enough to feel the fire of his fury radiating from his words and tones. “To find a sacrificial lamb for this bullshit of a plan.”

There was only silence in the meeting room as all the soldiers and lieutenants of higher ranks sat there, staring intensely at Mr. Fukuyama, waiting for his response. The old  _ Wakagashira _ sipped the tea in his hand, and after the teacup left his lips, he sighed and looked away. “Yes.”

Yuta had been quiet all throughout, the yellowed paper now in his hand as he studied the design of the explosive belt. But it wasn’t the same with Natsuki, the tensing of his jaw betrayed their deep frustration, a spasm of irritation crossed his face.

“What the fu-”

“Ulsan...Ulsan Industrial Complex,” The guard perked up and ran towards the table before sliding the laptop right in between Yuta and Natsuki, he tapped one of the spots in between those huge factories, “Please take a look over….here.”

* * *

Yuta was watching Mark being dragged out of the factory by Shotaro. The weight of the belt was now hurting his spine, and his heart, it was a kind of heartache unexplainable with words. Like acid disintegrating his heart bit by bit. 

_ Ten...Nine...Eight...Seven... _ Yuta counted down the steps Mark needed to get out of the location.  _ Six...Five- _ Yuta saw a flash of beige and blue before he felt like a nail bomb had exploded in his innards. A silver dagger was plunged straight into his chest rather jaggedly. A force punched through his guts all the way to his throat, and a mouth full of blood blasted out of his lips, soiling his shirt and the floor.

Mr. Yatsukahagi cackled hysterically as his hands flew to the bullet wound on his own chest, the blood left the artery it belonged in surges, beat out by a slowing heart, his blue suit jacket now purple, red, and brown in various shades. Blood dyed his teeth red, eyes crimson like a maniac. “Nakamoto Yuta,” he spat. “You’re coming down with me motherfucker.”

“Yu-Yuta-Hyung!” Yuta heard Mark shriek, his voice cutting through the chaos and the crowd. Distracted, he looked up, looking for the only person he loved. He never got to do so. Mr. Yatsukahagi had tackled him to the ground, one punch into his cheeks before he pushed the dagger further into his chest. More blood spluttered out of Yuta’s mouth, warm red liquid soaking through his shirt. Then he has been yanked away all of a sudden.  _ Natsuki. _

Not giving anyone time to rest, Yuta forced himself upwards and pounced onto Mr. Yatsukahagi, with adrenaline pumping through his veins into his heart and overtaking his conscious senses, he spurred punches into his face.  _ One...Two...Three… _ ” For Mark!” Yuta screamed, his whole body ignited with pain and fury.  _ Four...Five...Six… _ ” For my dad!” And then Yuta pulled the golden dagger out from his own dagger sheath, one that was engraved with an intricate ‘Nakamoto’ insignia. Tears, mixed with his blood, sloshed around his cheeks, dripping down, Mr. Yatsukahagi was still laughing, though his facial features were battered meat and bone clumps, unrecognizable.

“And this is for my mom,” Yuta gritted out. He drove the dagger straight into his heart, from the point all the way to the cross-guard, making sure his dagger had been straightly driven into his heart. And then, Mr. Yatsukahagi stopped moving. Yuta slid off the dead, bloody, and mushy body and slumped onto the floor.

“Yuta!” At first, this had been faint. He almost couldn’t hear this through the pumping of blood in his ears.

“Yuta!” The second time was clearer. Yuta snapped out of it and whirled his head behind, wincing and hissing in pain as he had forgotten the dagger in his chest in that fleeting moment. It was Natsuki.

The older male held out a hand to him but Yuta didn’t take it, he sat there and looked up at him, face blank, eyes out of focus, and his brain completely free of thoughts. Natsuki didn’t have leisure or time. He heaved Yuta up to his feet, dagger in his chest or not. He clasped both of his hands on Yuta’s still-extremely-bloody cheeks and forced the Young Master to look at him. “Get a grip!” the young  _ Wakagashira  _ screamed _. _

Yuta shook his head, his nerves in his chest were cutting knives into the rest of his body. He groaned as thousands of pain surged through his whole body. Once Natsuki was sure that Yuta was conscious enough to look and listen to him, he dropped his hands and shoved a pistol into Yuta’s hand.

“Why are you giving me this?” Yuta rasped out, panting. “Bring the men, you should-” Yuta took a painful swallow. “You should go!”

Natsuki didn’t say a word afterward, he broke eye contact and went straight to stripping the explosive belt off of Yuta. Recognizing what he was doing, the younger male started pushing him away. “Fuck, what are you doing?!” Yuta shoved Natsuki on the shoulder but he didn’t even budge the slightest. “Let go! I said let go! Natsuki! Let go!” But Natsuki didn’t stop, he was well aware of how weak Yuta was and how much pain he was in.

Natsuki didn’t even spare him a single look, he simply wrapped the belt around himself, “Apply pressure around the wound to stop blood loss,” he whirled around, still fixing the bomb on his waist, walking deeper into the factory. Yuta didn’t let him. He grasped onto his arm as if his life depended on it. “Let go of me, Yuta! What are you doing!”

"No, Natsuki, don't do this!" Yuta choked out, almost on his knees from losing too much energy and blood, his fingers sticky with congealing blood. "I haven't fulfilled my promise to you!" 

"No!” Natsuki retorted as he attempted to pry Yuta’s extremely tight grip around his arm. “You did enough!”

“I am not my dad! There cannot be anymore sacrificial pawn-”

“Fuck! Stop it!” Natsuki roared, muscle flicked angrily at his jaw. He stopped struggling against Yuta’s grip but instead, he pulled Yuta’s collar, forcing his Young Master to level his eyes with him. With a blood-curdling low tone, Natsuki bit out, "Yuta, remember this, as long as the head of the dragon doesn't fall, the clan survives." Without waiting for Yuta to react, the  _ Wakagashira _ waved someone over. " _ Shategashira! _ Take him!

“Wait- Natsuki! Wait!”

Natsuki didn’t even look at him. He continued what he was doing, ushering all of their men and guards out of the factory.

“ _ Aniki!  _ Listen!” Yuta cried out, the piercing cry dug deep within him, deep within, going through anything and everything. 

Once he was out of the factory, Yuta’s throat gurgled as he struggled to breathe, spitting blood. His body was shaking and he was sweating. Slowly breathing hard, he dragged himself into a sitting position, hand clutching his side as an electric shock from the wound went through his body, and then caught fire. The pain was merciless without escape.

For a second he felt too weak to continue, his head fell onto his  _ Shategashira’s  _ shoulder and his eyes flickered. Eventually, the pain settled into a sort of sharp throbbing that kept time with Yuta’s heart, like someone was poking his heart repeatedly with a burning stick.

* * *

Mark didn’t cry, but he had bit his lips so hard that the skin had torn and was bleeding. But the blood at the tip of his tongue and the tearing pain of his skin was nothing compared to the heartache he was experiencing. It felt like he was drowning. But he was not even in water. His chest felt tight like someone was ripping his rib cage open and pulling his heart out of his chest. He dared not look at Yuta, because he knew looking at him would make everything he had visualized real. And if those materialized into facts, then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from sobbing and that’s the last thing he wanted this reunion to be.

He wasn’t ready yet.

It simply hurts. It hurts to breathe. Then, Yuta had moved closer to Mark. He was so agile and quick Mark hadn’t even noticed until he felt like someone had pried his hands away from under the table. Yuta offered Mark a healing smile when Mark looked at him, the tears in his eyes swam around his chocolate brown irises, determined to not let them fall. Yuta quietly interlocked their fingers, still outside of their sight, but just with Yuta’s mischievous smile and a wink, as well as Mark’s stunned look on his face, it was clear to the both of them that Yuta knew what he was doing.

And then hard reality hit Mark. He snapped out of it and adjusted his seating position so he was now facing Yuta who was seated beside him. He swallowed nervously and frighteningly before asking his question, “So...so what happened to Natsuki-Hyung...he’s…” he pressed his lips together and licked them but they went dry again. “He’s not dead, is he?”

Yuta stared at Mark, his face unreadable. The grip on Mark’s hand tightened and Mark’s stomach seemed to rise to his throat. “Is he?” his eyebrows cocked and he held his breath unknowingly, concern flooded his eyes, goosebumps creeping on his arms.

“Who says I’m dead?” A soothing, yet firm voice cut through the silence and filled the air. Mark snapped his head to the back.

_ No. Fucking. Way. _ A whiplash was what Mark was experiencing. Natsuki, followed by Jaehyun, was walking towards the pavilion. The scarier part of this was that...the two of them looked almost identical, something Mark needed to re-evaluate his life for not realizing sooner. Apart from their hair, Jaehyun's one was dark brown. and Natsuki’s one was jet black and way shorter, but his hair, too, was neatly styled. Natsuki stood almost half a head taller than Jaehyun, and dimple only visible on one side of his cheek - something Mark never knew existed because Natsuki never smiled prior. But other than that, sharp jawlines, plump lips, and beautiful eyes...they were close to being identical.

Natsuki held up his hands defensively as he was crossing the bridge, his eyes still full of smiles. “Don’t look at me like that, Marky, if you’re asking about your professor I had gotten someone to send her back first.”

“You guys are brothers?” Mark exclaimed. The story can wait, but what the fuckery was this? Nothing made sense? “What the fuck!”

“Language!” Jaehyun and Natsuki snapped simultaneously, which Yuta watched with his eyebrows raised, obviously amused. The two brothers stared at each other, visibly surprised before breaking out into laughter. Even their peals of laughter sounded like copy-and-paste, low, soothing, and charming voices.

After that, the two of them finally decided to entertain a very confused and surprised Mark, who looked so frustrated that he was so close to ripping his hair out. “Yeah, we’re brothers,” Natsuki answered, crossing his arms smugly as Jaehyun slid into the stone seats beside Yuta. “Aren’t we both good-looking though?”

Mark scrunched his nose up and pointed accusingly at Natsuki. “Faker, I know you’re Japanese for goodness’s sake,” he squinted his eyes and scrutinized both of them, “unless…”

Jaehyun laughed so hard that he was wheezing. Natsuki slapped Mark’s finger and shook his head disapprovingly. “You little dense brat, are you sure you don’t have the DNA of a tree or a stone block or something,” Mark cocked his brows up and looked at Yuta for help, who in return only shrugged teasingly. “I’m not Natsuki-”

“What?! You lied to me even about your name!” Mark shrieked, his voice went up three octaves, disbelief evident on his face.

Natsuki flicked Mark’s forehead to make him shut up. “Let me finish, you little brat!” Natsuki yelled back. “I am Natsuki, no, I  _ was _ Natsuki, Natsuki Nakamoto, because Sir Nakamoto, Yuta’s father took me under his wing,” he smiled cryptically at the confused child before him.

“But my real name? Jung Jae-Yoon,” he giggled slightly as Mark looked like he had his brain blown. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mark Lee.”

_ How? What? Why? When? Who? _ Approximately 800 questions flooded his brain, and the more he thought about it, instead of answers, he only got more questions popping up. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll fill you in the details about us Jung brothers later,” Jae-Yoon ruffled Mark’s hair affectionately. “Didn't you want to hear about the story of how we survived the raid with the  _ Tsuchigumo _ clan?”

_ Ah right. _ “You guys distracted me,” Mark grumbled before drumming his fingers against the table impatiently. “Then, then, then, please continue the story.”

* * *

Natsuki had always been good with handiwork. Be it first aid, sewing, or cooking; he could do all of these with no problem at all, making him extremely competent as Yuta’s  _ Wakagashira _ and his ‘babysitter’. His hidden talents also included being extremely amazing with technology. And that was how he managed to stay in the West sector of the  _ Tsuchigumo _ clan despite being the youngest amongst them all.

He hadn’t told anyone this, but he was the person who first carved the Nakamoto symbol into the dagger, which later, was picked up by Mr. Fukuyama during his tier evaluation. Impressed and amazed, he brought Natsuki and his carved dagger to Sir Nakamoto, who, too, loved the design and later ordered all of their daggers to be made following Natsuki’s initial design.

When he first heard about the explosive belt, he almost went bonkers over the insane idea.  _ Too primitive, _ he thought. And then when he saw Yuta putting on the belt in the basement, something clicked.

If Shotaro enjoyed dancing and Yuta enjoyed reading books in their free time, then making weird little robotics and electronic devices would be Natsuki’s. When he left the basement, he ran straight to his bedroom, which by now, should be vacant. Except for the little box of devices and robotic figures that he thought would be too useless to be brought back to Japan by Mr. Fukuyama.

He dug through all of them and finally found the one he had been searching for. Wireless controlled device. Mr. Fukuyama had mentioned that wearing devices like this would make the sensors go off, but Mr. Fukuyama didn’t know that Natsuki had made most of his devices with a cloaking material made from black silicon to hide objects and humans from infrared sensors. This would never have been found out, but he could also only attach this little apparatus when they were inside the factory because turning it on before they made it in would have triggered the sensors too.

* * *

When Yuta came around, he was in the private jet of the Nakamoto family, a family doctor bandaging his chest up. He jumped up in fright but was almost pushed down to the make-shift operation table by the doctor. “Don’t move, the tissues are extremely fragile, you’re in a plane, the pressure will tear your skin,” the old man in white doctor robe mumbled. “The dagger slanted and it missed your vital organs.”

Yuta caught sight of the silver dagger lying inside the surgical tray. If he hadn’t seen it prior, he would never have known its original color. It was now covered in almost red and black goo, a stench of iron vaguely whiffing in the air filled with antiseptic. The sight of it made Yuta want to vomit. Not because of the blood, but the spider on the hilt of the dagger.

Yuta relaxed once he caught sight of the golden pin on his coat but his heart was still pumping against his rib cage. “Where’s Natsuki?” Yuta asked, his eyes were bloodshot-red. The doctor stared at him weirdly before jabbing his thumb behind him.

“Sleeping over there, haven’t woken up once since he boarded the plane.”

Yuta breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes to catch his breath. It took him a while but he then realized this was his father’s attending doctor. Yuta weakly opened his eyes again. “How...how was Sir Nakam- no, my dad?”

“Same old, same old,” The old doctor grumbled. Yuta remembered how young this doctor had been the first time he saw him back in the headquarters in Japan, and now, his head full of white hair, beard and brows white too, a pair of annoyed eyes that do not seem to go away. “You can still meet him for one last time before he leaves for the  _ Yomi-no-Kuni.” _

Yuta closed his eyes again.  _ Yomi-no-Kuni, _ the land of the dead. Time really flashed past his eyes. Too quick. Too young. His dad could have lived longer. His parents, all three of them could. A single tear slid from his eyes onto the leather chair beneath him.

The next thing Yuta realized was that he was back at the meadow hidden right behind the headquarters of the Nakamoto clan. His dark teal hair and white oversized sweater were messy from the wind. Except this time, he recognized that he was in a dream because everything seemed too good to be true, too dreamy, too  _ sunny. _ He saw the spot he used to sit at and he smiled.

  
Somewhere, somehow, he had a hunch,  _ someone _ would be coming soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's never really the end. Also, NO! THE STORY HAS YET TO END! The next update would be the last update but you can keep on anticipating!
> 
> Have a good week ahead and leave me some comments!! (´,,•ω•,,)♡ Love you all.
> 
> Love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


	33. GRAND PLAN

Mark pouted, his arms crossed, as if contemplating the story told by the two older men. Yuta observed Mark’s features. It had only been two years since they had last met but he had...changed so much. He slimmed down so much that his cheekbones became so much more prominent. He might have had it hard for the past two years but Mark’s life hadn’t been easy either.

Mark scratched his head and thought carefully. “So...let me re-organize everything,” he nodded to himself. “Yuta-Hyung fell unconscious after he left the factory...then what?”

“Were you listening to the story? JaeYoon-Hyung managed to detonate the bomb without needing anyone to manually operate it,” this time, it was Jaehyun who spoke, a scowl on his face which was quite funny because he was known to be a gentleman. “Since Mr. Yatsukahagi was dead, and half of the scene was in chaos, the other half, dead, no one could’ve anticipated it.”

“Yea, I know!” Mark defended himself, but his lips were turning downwards at every given second. “I saw the news, they said no bodies were found! But you said-”

“Every  _ Yakuza _ clan has their own team of cleaners,” JaeYoon interjected. “I strapped the explosive belt on Mr. Yatsukahagi, and it detonated, but look, they couldn’t even find a single trace of it.”

Just imagining a dead body explode was easy to make Mark gag and shudder. He recited the prayers in his mind, grimacing. “Ew,” he commented. Then, he perked up again, like a meerkat, staring accusingly at Yuta who subconsciously made an innocent look. “If you managed to solve it this fast why did you take so long to come back!”

Yuta didn’t need to answer before JaeYoon had knocked his knuckles against Mark’s skull, eliciting a small “ow!” from him. “The  _ Tsuchigumo  _ have tons of connections with the politicians and government personnel world-wide, we had to go straight into hiding right after we went back to Japan.” The two clan members massaged their heads, as if it could strip them of their horrible memories.

“The only way we could do this was to get to the FBI, which was a huge hassle because we had to slip past all of the public eyes to do so,” Yuta sighed heavily. But then he smiled to himself. “Luckily we have Shotaro.”

Mark had to physically stop himself from whamming himself into the stone pillars. Not only did he forget about Shotaro’s  _ potential _ connections with Yuta and Natsuki, but hearing his name from Yuta’s mouth just felt so...weird. “Right!” Mark hollered. “So I was the only person kept in the dark, thinking that suddenly this young dance prodigy would just turn up in my school!”

The two men laughed at his reaction while Jaehyun chuckled to himself. Mark crossed his arms begrudgingly. “Is no one going to fill me in about what Shotaro is doing now?”

* * *

Right after the funeral of the Clan Leader, Sir Nakamoto, the  _ Yakuza _ Clan had to split most of their members up into smaller teams. Well, they already had that in place as a backup plan, but it was never executed while the Clan Leader was alive.

Yuta sat in the living room, right in front of the sofa, rummaging through the stacks and stacks of papers lying around the floor. The black curtains were drawn and only minimal sunlight was allowed in, sometimes, he would forget whether it was day or night unless he looked at the old analogue clock. Scruff was starting to grow on his chin even though he had just shaved them clean last week. God, if he had to stay one more day in this damn house with all these men.

His team consisted of all the major players, his dad’s  _ Wakagashira,  _ Mr. Fukuyama, the four trainers of the Clan Leaders, Mr. Shimura, Mr. Ida, Mr. Mayumi, Mr. Takahashi, who were also amazing at strategizing on top of their combat skills, his own  _ Wakagashira,  _ Natsuki, his  _ Shategashira, _ Hiroshi, the informant of the clan, Shotaro, a few other higher-ranked soldiers and a small group of maids who followed them to take care of all of their daily needs and necessities. 

The small cottage sat in a rural and quiet traditional Ryukyu village in Japan, Okinawa. The small village consisted almost entirely of traditional style, one-storied houses, which were surrounded by stone walls, and covered with red-tiled roofs and ample lion-like shisha statues to ward off evil spirits, and it was known as one of the places with the laxest police force in the country. They didn’t have a choice, they had to run. World leaders and international Mafia bosses who had ties with the  _ Tsuchigumo _ Clan were after their heads, and it definitely didn’t help that the Japanese government was just as corrupted, receiving black money from Mr. Yatsukahagi. Now their main source of illegal money was cut off by the Nakamoto Clan, it’s really up to the Gods to save Yuta and his clan.

Well, not quite. During Shotaro’s personal investigation surrounding the  _ Tsuchigumo Clan _ , as well as the information left behind by his parents, he found out that the FBI had been after the  _ Tsuchigumo  _ Clan for a while. But because of the lack of evidence, as well as multiple sources of pressures coming from different political parties from across the globe, the case was suppressed over and over again. 

As the saying goes, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend”, even though the Nakamoto Clan, as the biggest  _ Yakuza _ clan in Japan, did not have exactly the best relationship with the FBI, in fact, none of the transnational organized crime groups had, but the Nakamoto Clan believed that this was the prime time to hop onto the train of Public Corruption Investigation and cut the crooked connections one and for all. Above all, it was the only reason for Yuta and the Clan to survive.

Throughout Japan, in the cities of  _ Kanto _ and  _ Kanto _ , apart from Shotaro, whose identity had been kept as the Clan’s top-secret, all of their wanted posters had flooded the streets. Policemen also made rounds regularly to look for them, staking out their training grounds and headquarters in Osaka. 

“Where do you think you’re going,” Natsuki called out, his voice heavy with sleep as he raised his thick eyebrows and stifled a yawn. He had, once again, caught Yuta sneaking out of their cottage. It was almost like their daily routine at this point. “Just because the posters haven’t reached here yet doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance that villagers know who we are, there's the internet, people are advanced.”

“Do you have like, super-hearing or something? How do you manage to catch me every morning?” Yuta grumbled before maneuvering back to the place he just stood up from. He started packing the papers up. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, 7:30 A.M. Time was starting to get more and more abstract.

“Instinct? Intuition?” Natsuki answered without an expression, but his tone was rather teasing. He plopped himself down beside the Young Master, who looked like he hadn’t slept for days. “Are you not going to sleep?”

Truth to be told, Yuta was tired, but he just didn’t want to. Ever since they moved into this cottage, Yuta was assigned to be in the same room as Shotaro, but because the young informant was rarely at home, it made Yuta feel too empty and weird to sleep alone, even though he didn’t have this problem back home. “Maybe later,” Yuta replied languidly. He buried his face into his hands and rubbed them. He’s frustrated by staying indoors all day. “Urgh, I really need to go outside.”

“You can never be too sure, Yuta,” Natsuki said it like he had repeated that for the 200th times, which to be fair, he had. “Just because the notice has yet to reach Okinawa, doesn’t mean that there isn’t a chance that people here have seen the posters or noticed it yet… the internet is...a thing, you know?”

Yuta massaged his temple as he lied down on his back, fuck all the papers under him. “There are only old people here…” Yuta grumbled under his breath, knowing full well that Natsuki could hear him, but also understanding that whatever he said was true - they can’t risk anything, especially when Shotaro has been out every day looking for his alliances and other informants for help. “I’m hungry…”

As if on cue, the door was pushed wide open, and the two men turned their heads towards it simultaneously. It was the three housemaids, hands filled to the brink with grocery bags. But what surprised them was the one more person following the maids in. Shotaro.

Shotaro smiled quietly as he waved, a stack of papers and letters in his hands. He was wearing a black turtleneck under a gray woolen overcoat. There was no sign of him looking like he was on the run or hiding from the law enforcement or whatsoever, he looked extremely clean and fresh, like a university student who was visiting home during his Winter break. But all of them knew, hidden underneath the turtleneck was a huge, thick bandage that covered his throat.

“Hey, you’re back early,” Natsuki waved back lazily as he pushed himself up from the couch. Shotaro smiled with his eyes curved, as he dropped the stack of papers onto the table beside Yuta. His vocal cord had been damaged, so he didn't speak. Natsuki then turned to the maids who were hurrying down into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. “Madam Akibana, where’s my gray hoodie? The cotton one?”

Yuta watched the maids and can’t help but feel sorry for them. Most of these ladies spent their whole life working for the  _ Yakuza _ Clan, if they were married, then their partners have to be from the Clan or already in the clan, just like Shotaro’s parents. These soldiers and maids are mostly ex-criminals or runaways who have nowhere to go, and for their sake of survival, they turned to these  _ Yakuza  _ Clans for help. The cool thing about this though, was that almost all of their employees, from the soldiers all the way down to their servants, are all combat trained.

Of course, they are allowed to get married and have children, but they have to swear their loyalty upon the Clan, which was honestly...quite sad. Some of them don’t think so though. To them, shelter, food, and protection are given to them, as long as they don’t betray the Clan, they get to live and die for the Clan. Even if these kinds of lifestyles aren’t common, it’s a form of normalcy and consistency these employees craved.

Madam Akibana raised her eyebrows as she placed the grocery bags on the table. “In the second compartment of your wardrobe,” She replied. She had been working with and for the Young Master for the past 15 years, to them, she was more like a guardian or caretaker than a maid. She whirled around, hands on her hips. Brows furrowed. “Yuta, you have one more box of things under your bed you haven’t cleaned out yet, do you still need me to do it for you?”

She only dared to show this aggressive-mother attitude to these three boys she worked for, in front of the older and higher-ups, she must be meek and passive. Yuta rolled to his side before sitting up tiredly. “Fine, fine, I will do it now,” He sighed.

He dragged himself to his room and sat by his made-bed. It was half the size as compared to the one he had back in the manor. He laced his hands down the comforter and a smile surfaced on his face as the image of Mark cuddling into his huge fluffy white blanket while sinking deeper into his slumber arose. The goodness didn’t last long, there was a sting and then the prick went direct and straight into his heart, no matter how hard he tried to shake the image off, the headache stayed there. 

Imagination was painful and tiresome. The ability to create his own world or scenarios which will never happen; made him feel like collapsing to the ground. He swallowed painfully as he dropped to the ground and pulled the huge box out from beneath his bed. He tore open the tape and just by opening the box, he immediately recognized the contents.

His letters with Haru. It had been seven years since Yuta and Haru had started to exchange letters. Madam Akibana had done a great job organizing these even though it had to be done in a short period of notice. He took all of them out and rearranged them into a smaller box, and then as he was almost done with all of them, the latest one fell out of the pile and dropped onto the ground. He raised his eyebrows, confused.  _ Wait, I have opened every letter...Why is this here…? _

Then it hit him, he was going to read this letter when Mr. Fukuyama arrived at the Nakamoto Manor in Japan and he had to ditch whatever he was doing to attend the meeting. He was supposed to read this letter right after but one thing led to another and now he had an unopened letter by Haru in his hand. 

Despite his living condition, anticipation to read her letter was part of the sugar of living, for it acted as a magnifying glass to joy. Like a child, Yuta felt his toes wiggling in excitement and he tore the letter open carefully, not wanting to crease or shred it in any way.

_ Dear Yuta, _

_ I hope this letter finds you well. _

_ I really enjoyed reading all the dates and activities you and your boyfriend had gone on and done, you two seemed like an amazing couple. And of course, yes, I would love to meet him, that would be lovely. _

_ We have been notified that the orphanage will be closing in the coming January, and all of the children will be sent to different orphanages across the countries into different cities. It has been saddening to know that this place that I have worked in for the past 30 years will be gone, it just hurts to let go. _

_ But I would not wallow in frustration and regret (ง •̀_•́)ง, I would pick myself up and look for a new place to work in. _

_ Please do not worry about me, do what you need to do and I’ll visit you soon. _

_ Love, _

_ Haru _

Putting the letter down, Yuta had a soft smile upon his face. Haru’s energy and positivity were always so addictive and infectious. But the happiness Yuta felt was not long-lasting. The closing down of the orphanage would make Haru lose his job, and on top of that, it wasn’t a high-paying job, to begin with. With her age, it would be even harder for her to look for a job, especially in an overpopulated city like Japan. 

Yuta sighed tiredly before packing all of those letters before going to bed.

* * *

It’s D-Day. Yuta and all of the Clan members have spent over half a year organizing and gathering more evidence needed to bring down the  _ Tsuchigumo Clan _ and all other political parties. Thanks to the help of Sir Kawamura, Yuta had managed to get in touch with the few congressmen, politicians, businessmen, and moguls who had originally refused to help him, but Yuta knew Sir Kawamura must have...pulled some strings in his own ways. He was the clan in charge of  _ explosive  _ tradings anyway. The rest of the  _ Yakuza  _ Clans, even though they were reluctant, trusted Mr. Fukuyama enough to work with them “for the one last time” as some of them put it.

Yuta hadn’t slept for the past 72 hours just to compile all the evidence his dad collected as well as the newfound proof he later discovered. Madam Akibana walked into the dark living room with a cup of herbal tea on her tray, and before she placed the tray down beside Yuta, she did a double-take on the Young Master before gasping. “Yuta! Your nose!”

“Huh?” Yuta answered shortly as he looked at her with a blank face, his hand going straight up to his nose instinctively. “My nose?” On his hand, it was stained with a gooey substance and the substance did not register in his head until he detected the vague smell of iron. His nose was bleeding.

Madam Akibana placed the tray down rather forcefully as she ran off to find napkins for Yuta. She almost bumped into Mr. Fukuyama who was walking out of his room with a thumbdrive. “Hey, hey, what’s the hurry,” he asked firmly to the maid who was apologizing profusely to him.

“Don’t be mad at her,” Yuta cut in curtly, “She was looking for napkins for me.”

It took Mr. Fukuyama for a while to adjust his eyes to the darkness but he gasped softly after finally seeing the red streak coming out of Yuta’s nose that looked like it was growing longer by the second. “What is wrong with you, son?” He asked worriedly as he ran to Yuta while Madam Akibana sprinted in a different direction to look for napkins.

“It’s not a big deal,” Yuta sighed. He looked at the clock, 2:15 a.m. He needed to pick up the pace, the flight to America was at 5, and he needed to complete all of these before 3. 

Mr. Fukuyama flicked on his forehead, making Yuta grab onto that spot on his face, wincing. “What was that for!” Yuta hissed.

“I was supposed to take care of you for your dad!” The old  _ Wakagashira _ scolded, he placed the USB drive on the table and walked back to his room. “I’ve organized everything in the USB...I’ll call the family doctor…”

Yuta watched his retreating figure and felt a glow of warmth threading around him. Madam Akibana ran back with a box of tissue paper and placed it beside Yuta, she watched him for a while, eyes trained on the papers in front of him, no intention to wipe away the blood on his philtrum. She shook her head and squatted down beside him, yanked a few pieces out, and started wiping the blood for him. Yuta was a little surprised at first, he ducked away and stared at her like she was a monster before she dragged him back with annoyance and continued to wipe the remaining blood away.

Times like this reminded Yuta of all the people around him. He might have lost his parents at a young age, but thanks to Haru and Sir Nakamoto, he had gotten so many parental figures in his life. Yuta paused, head tilted toward the black sky. The moonlight streamed down upon his wintry pale skin. He looked at the moon, the shape of his lips reflecting the crescent above. “Madam Akibana, can you do me a favor when you go out to buy groceries in the morning?”

“Sure, what do you need me to do?”

Yuta pulled a letter out of his sweater and pushed it into her hand. She had to place the letter under the moonlight directly to look at what was written on the envelope. “Ha...Haru?” She asked, whispering, but also yelling. Yuta grabbed onto her hands and made a “shh” motion to her, then jabbed his thumb in the direction Mr. Fukuyama had gone. She nodded frantically in understanding before stuffing the letter back into her pocket.

* * *

3:15 a.m.

Fifteen people crowded around Yuta and Shotaro, the maids were stuffing boxes of food into bags, Mr. Fukuyama and the four strategist-and-trainers were going through the plans again with Shotaro while Natsuki and Hiroshi were checking through the documents in his luggage one last time.

At first, they had planned on sending all five soldiers to America with Yuta and Shotaro, but they figured out that the more men they have, the more attention they would attract, so it was decided that only Yuta and his  _ Wakagashira,  _ Natsuki, and his  _ Shategashira,  _ Hiroshi, as well as his informant, Shotaro would go there.

“We’re ready to go,” Shotaro smiled cheerfully as he patted the backpack on his back. Out of all 16 people in that small cottage, he seemed to be the one at the most ease despite knowing that they were going to face the most dangerous situation in their lives and entering a hostile environment.

Mr. Fukuyama sighed heavily and pulled Yuta and Shotaro into a tight hug, one hand behind Yuta’s back and another at the back of Shotaro’s head. “You know how dangerous this will be, there will be guards and soldiers of all  _ Yakuza _ and Mafia clans staking out just to kill you, Yuta…” he sighed again. “Just...just be careful, your life above the mission, okay?”

“I will, Mr. Fukuyama,” Yuta nodded with a small smile. “We’ll deliver the good news soon.”

“Good, good,” the old  _ Wakagashira _ sighed again, creases on his forehead.

“Okay, okay, don’t worry,” Shotaro held Mr. Fukuyama’s hand and squeezed it. “You can entrust them to me _. _ ”

Mr. Shimura, the known iron-heart-trainer, ruffled their hair before pulling them into a hug too. “Be careful okay, your life above the mission, remember that.”

“Here, take this, I got this from the temple,” Madam Akibana walked forward with an amulet in her hand. She draped the four red amulets over their heads and stuffed them under their clothes. “Come back safe and sound.”

Yuta gave her a tight squeeze before bowing to all of them. “We’ll take our leave.” Shotaro’s eyes still showed the happiness and excitement of a young, innocent child as he waved to all of them. Yuta sighed for the Nth time.  _ No wonder he is able to fool everybody with his face.  _ Then as they all sat in the car towards the airport, Yuta clasped his hands together and closed his eyes.

“Mom, dad, Sir Nakamoto, Mr. and Mrs. Osaki, please watch over us,” he prayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYA! DOUBLE UPDATES, ONCE AGAIN!
> 
> Two extremely long chapters, a lot of things happening, take some time to rest in between chapters!
> 
> Also, drink water, stay hydrated! Love you guys!


	34. THE BOY WITH THE DRAGON TATTOOS (FINAL)

“Speaking of Shotaro, where is he now and how is he?” Mark asked again, nibbling the tip of his thumb. “He’s doing okay right?”

“He was...let’s just say the mission succeeded…” Natsuki answered quietly but he looked up the same time as Yuta did, one was watching his words and the other one making sure the other was watching his words. Of course, he wasn't going to bring up “he might have killed a few men” in this conversation.

Natsuki coughed lightly to appear more casual. “He now leads a team of his own in Japan, he’ll be coming back soon.”

Mark smiled at Yuta empathetically and held Yuta’s hand in between his own. ”Must have been hard for you all this while.”

* * *

Yuta laid on the leather chair of the private plane, staring at the ceiling. He had been awake for 80 hours and he should fall asleep given how tired he has been. But he couldn’t.

Not because the ‘bed’ was too small for his liking, or that the place was freezing and he didn’t have a heater, no, not any of those. But it felt like he had been out stranded in a boat in the vast ocean and he had just been miraculously rescued. There was a ringing noise reverberating through his eardrums, in the three hours he had been lying there he must have woken up six times.

There was a tenseness to his muscles that made him more like a mannequin on this soft mattress than a man of flesh and bone. He wanted so much to melt onto the soft foam, wrapped in eider-down, and drift into the world of dreams. Yet his brain was a violent whirl of stupidity, trying to organize the chaos in his life. 

Before he could attempt to drift off into sleep again, someone knocked on the panel separating him from the aisle. “I’m awake,” he answered. Yuta pulled the panel open and forced himself to sit up, so he could welcome the guest into his mini space.

It was the doctor, and Yuta almost forgot he had boarded the plane with them. Like every other time, he was in his white robe, under which he wore a blue and black checkered button-down. Except this time, he looked more clean-shaven. “Good…” Yuta stole a glance at the watch on his wrist, 9:30 in the morning, “Good morning, Mr. Fuyuno.”

“Morning, Yuta,” The doctor replied with a gruff voice, pulling a chair to sit beside Yuta. He opened his bag and took out a box of equipment, but before he could unpack, he looked at Yuta before squinting his eyes to look at him. “Gosh, how many days have you not slept?”

“Three days and eight hours,” Yuta replied, closing his eyes momentarily to clear his brain, but even he knew that was a useless attempt. “Why? Am I dying soon?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Mr. Fuyuno snapped with a disgusted look, which made Yuta laugh at his reaction. “Just relax and sleep and you’ll be all set.”

He took a pill out and placed them on Yuta’s hand. “This is Restoril, it’s to help with insomnia,” he watched the Young Master gulp it down with the help of water. He then took out a small packet and placed it on the armrest. “Take this once every three days if you need it, don’t overdose on them…”

Yuta didn’t hear what Mr. Fuyuno had to say at the end, with the help of medication, he fell right into a deep slumber. In his dreams, he heard the sound of his dress shoes clicking against the golden tiles of the ballroom in the headquarters, the waves of laughter of his father, and impromptu jokes that Mr. Fukuyama would tell. He would be so asleep and so awake in his soul, reliving those perfect moments of the time he grew up in the Nakamoto Headquarters. There were days he'd recall those adventures of the nighttime and lavish them upon Natsuki and Shotaro over breakfast, no doubt with a few beautiful details added on the fly.

The following hours turned into seconds, and it passed so quickly and rapidly that Yuta could barely remember anything, except occasionally waking up to go to the restroom or eating a few bites of food once or twice.

“Yuta, wake up.” 

He could vaguely hear someone calling out his name, but he dismissed it as part of his dream and sunk deeper into his quilt, tossing around until he found the perfect angle to fall right back into sleep. Then he felt someone patting his back. “Yuta, we’re alighting, wake up.”

  
  


He could make out the owner of the voice...Natsuki. Yuta drifted into consciousness. And then back out. The world was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of his thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by a hurricane. A tap on his shoulder momentarily brought him back to the real world, but after a second he was once again lost. He could feel somebody trying to look at him, staring dead in the eye, but he couldn't focus. The whole world simply felt low resolution, a bad quality movie. Confusion blossomed in his heart and he knew that sooner or later he would need to wake up. To stare reality in the face. Before he could retreat into wallowing blackness, Natsuki dragged him up into a sitting position and shoved a bag onto his lap.

“What’s this?” Yuta asked, his voice low and groggy. “How long have I been out for?”

“Ten hours,” Natsuki answered simply before sitting at the side of Yuta’s bed. “We need to go now, Shotaro has arranged people to pick us up.”

Yuta rubbed his eyes before pulling the quilt open and stood up.  _ Time to do this. _ He stretched a bit before grabbing the pills on the armrest and bowed to Mr. Fuyuno who was seated all the way at the end of the plane. He would not alight with them but would fly back to Japan straight after. “Goodbye Mr. Fuyuno, have a great day ahead,” Yuta greeted.

“Stay safe, boys,” Mr. Fuyuno waved.

* * *

“Afterwards we went to the Federal Bureau of Investigation with the help of Shotaro and Mr. and Mrs. Osaki’s connections in the USA,” Yuta continued, looking down to his thighs. “And we managed to submit our evidence to them and managed to get them to grant us, the clan, immunity.”

Even though neither Natsuki nor Yuta said this, they both knew it wasn’t as easy as Yuta had made it seem. Of course, they had to negotiate with the FBI regarding the terms and conditions, but the FBI had to give in ultimately because of the evidence Yuta had and they knew they could never have gotten them without the help of the Nakamoto Clan.

“Oh right, Yuta-Hyung, there was something I wanted to ask,” Mark looked at Yuta with curiosity beaming in his eyes. 

“Hm?”

“So what’s with the Ai Entertainment company? Am I your employee now? Is this your side hustle or something?” Mark asked rather sincerely, which made the three older males burst into laughter.

“No, this is not my side hustle, Mark, I’m managing both companies concurrently,” Yuta finally answered after he could stop himself from cackling. “Why? Do you not want to join my company?” Yuta squinted his eyes at Mark before crossing his arms, pretending to be contemplating his decisions.

“No, no, no,” Mark answered with a shocked expression as he dived forward to pull Yuta’s arm out and intertwined his fingers with Yuta’s again. “I need this job, please hire me.”

The gathering of these four men did not last as long as they wished it to be. Jaehyun took a look at his watch and tapped JaeYoon on the shoulder. “Hyung, we have a meeting to run to.”

“Let’s get going,” JaeYoon announced before standing up, dusting his pants and straightening his suits. He held out a hand to Mark and feigned politeness. “It was nice meeting you again, Mr. Lee.”

“Drop that, Jaeyoon-Hyung,” Mark scowled at him and grabbed his hand, attempting to exert force to hurt him, but it didn’t work, so he just looked like a fool for trying too hard. 

Jaeyoon and Jaehyun laughed at him while Yuta rubbed his back soothingly as if to comfort him for the humiliation he had brought upon himself. Mark and Yuta walked both of them to the exit of the rooftop garden, and before Mark could bid both of them goodbye, Jaeyoon turned around again.

“Right, before I forget,” He looked at Mark mischievously. “I still have one more brother, guess who that is?”

Both Yuta and Jaehyun had a knowing smile right after that question was asked, they all looked towards Mark with anticipation for his reactions.

Mark frowned characteristically and crossed his arms. “How would I know, it’s definitely not me.”

“Of course it’s not you, consider your…” Jaeyoon darted his eyes up and down Mark, purposely making it extra judgemental. “...Height.”

Jaehyun burst into another fit of laughter while Yuta shook his head at Jaehyoon’s sharp tongue. He could be really hurtful if he wanted to. Mark huffed and squared his shoulders as if he could square Yuta’s  _ Wakagashira _ up. But Jaeyoon simply chuckled at him. “Don’t be angry, I’ll tell you who.”

“Who?”

“Jung Sungchan.”

“What the fuck!” Mark screeched. His brain might have...exploded in his skull.

“Language!” The Jung Brothers yelled again.

* * *

Yuta walked Mark to his car after he signed his employment contract in Yuta’s office. Mark was still extremely excited to step into employment even if he was hired by his...boyfriend?  _ Wait...what’s our...relationship? _

“Uh, Hyung,” Mark began as he eyed Yuta awkwardly as the older male started the car. “I have something I want to ask…”

“Uh-huh,” Yuta replied absentmindedly.

Mark licked his lips as his heart did a somersault. It was as if the words were still circulating in his mind and not yet allowed to flow outward into the world. His silence made Yuta turn his head towards him with a curious glance.

“Go on,” Yuta said again before turning his attention back to the road.

_ Okay, fuck it, I’ll just...ask. _ The pressure was building inside his chest but he figured he had to face it anyway. “It’s my graduation ceremony in a month's time and…” Mark swallowed the lump sitting at the base of his throat, stealing a look at Yuta with the corner of his eyes. “My parents will be coming to Korea so…”

There was a look of surprise that flashed past Yuta’s face as he held his breath, waiting for Mark to continue his sentence.

“So...I'll like you to attend the ceremony and...meet my parents,” Mark finished. God, he wanted to die. Why was he so embarrassed? His cheeks were literally on fire. How he wished he could just open the car door and jumped out.

Yuta didn’t seem to let go of the breath he was holding, instead, he took a little while more to process the words Mark just said before letting it go. “Of- of course, I would love to,” he replied. The car came to a stop behind the red light and he turned to Mark, and leaned in.

The younger male’s face turned red, as Yuta came closer. Excessive sweat fell from his eyebrows as he was getting hot. “Wait,” Mark said. Under pressure his voice shook, becoming almost inaudible. Yuta only smiled seductively as he hovered above Mark.  _ Fuck it, I want this. _ Mark grabbed onto Yuta’s face with both of his hands before connecting his lips with Yuta. His heart raced and he could feel his cheeks getting red. One of his hands dropped and he gripped onto his pant leg as he tried to breathe slowly and tell himself to calm down.

They, unfortunately, had to pull away, when the traffic lights turned green, but Mark’s face remained the same color as the stop sign.

“Oh by the way,” Yuta breathed heavily, a smile lingered on his cheeks as his eyes trained on the road, “I have someone I want you to meet too.”

“Oh, who?” Mark panted, as he tried to mask his shyness behind false casualness, eyes looking literally in every direction except for Yuta’s.

“Haru.”

* * *

Nighttime. 

Yuta stood at the top of his entertainment building and looked beyond the edge of the building. Up here, it was like looking down at the world. He could see the trees, the flowers, the buildings, and the many busy people going on about the day. Up there it was like standing on a giant’s back exploring the world with awe. He knew this erratic journey would be coming to an end, welcoming the smooth sailing one. But he knew, one day, he would have to tell Mark about the part of the story he had purposely omitted. But not now, not when he has yet to internalize it properly. 

The  **Funeral.**

“Young Master, the bathwater-” The maid tried to call him, but he didn’t stop running. The moment he had alighted the designated car that picked him up from the airport, he sprinted straight to his father’s room, clothes still stained with blood.

This time, he did not bother to greet the maids stationed outside his father’s room, he pushed past them and went into the room. Yuta noticed his father’s lifeless body before the beeping heart monitor, which was slowing down each time it beeped. Even though he knew his father couldn’t hear him, he still approached him lightly, as though afraid it would wake him up. Would that not have been better? Waking him up from this slumber he was in?

Yuta sat on the huge chair beside the bed, and gently tucked Sir Nakamoto’s stiff-arm under the blanket. The beeping sound slowly became white noise as Yuta took his time to look around the room, taking in the surroundings of his father’s living space one last time. 

The huge armchair that he loved. The ceramic teacup set that he only drank from. The messily stacked books that he read in his free time. And a photo frame by his bedside. Out of curiosity, Yuta picked up the photograph.

It was a photo of the two of them at the orphanage, taken on the same day he was adopted by Sir Nakamoto. Sir Nakamoto, black hair slicked back neatly, shoes polished, in his black suits and golden watch, and Yuta in his gray hand-knitted sweater. The Clan leader had a gentle smile on his face while one of his hands was behind Yuta, who had books in both of his hands. And as if the universe was playing an elaborate prank on him, the heart monitor picked its pace up.

_ "Beep... beep... beep...beep… _

_ beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!" _

The heart monitor flatline. Then, Mr. Fukuyama, Natsuki, Shotaro, and all of the high-ranked officers ran in. Yuta felt as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the atmosphere. His chest hurt from uncontrollable sobbing followed by gulping for air.

“Dad,” Yuta called out, desperation and pain in his voice as it cracked with his erratic breath. “Dad, wake up!”

Sir Nakamoto lied in the half-light, utterly still, eyes slightly opened as if admiring the heavens. His lips are blue, skin grey, eyes dull with exploded pupils. He was as lifeless as the fall leaves that gust outside his open windows. His hair moved in the afternoon breeze and his dress-shirt billowed - the rest of him utterly still. 

Painful. Really painful. Yuta kneeled at his side, touching Sir Nakamoto’s hand to his chest and then the world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was just gone. He paused trying to hold back the strange feelings rumbling inside him but he couldn’t. A lone tear traced down his cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened. So many tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face. His chin trembled as if he was a small child. He breathed heavier than he ever had before. He was gasping for air that simply wasn’t there. Yuta’s throat burned, forming a silent scream.

* * *

The pain that once burned like a fire had faded away to an icy numbness. Yuta looked into the standing mirror, his torso naked, the stabbing wound on his chest had now faded into an ugly scar, just like every single one else on his body. His eyes went to the two dragons on his arms automatically.  _ Dragons.  _ Yuta swallowed the pending pain parked at the base of his throat as he looked away to the vase of white flowers sitting at the top of the window sill, tears were swirling in his eyes but he didn’t want to let them fall.  _ Dragons. Dragons. Dragons. _

19 years ago, Sir Nakamoto had just arrived at the training ground for a brief meeting but had decided to visit Yuta for a short while. The Clan Leader stood outside near the railing of the walkway, waiting for Yuta to finish his private lessons.

“Thank you, Mr. Nomura!” Yuta’s voice could be heard from inside the makeshift classroom. The door was pulled open and he stood out, bags too big for his small body and so many big, thick books that looked like they didn't fit in his small arms. The Young Master beamed up to his  _ Wakagashira.  _ “Let’s go  _ Aniki-” _

But Natsuki did not respond to him. The young  _ Wakagashira _ stared ahead with a shocked expression. “Good- Good afternoon, Sir Nakamoto!” Natsuki yelled as he bowed a full 90-degree. Yuta looked in the direction and saw the Clen Leader. His smile fell and he stood straighter.

Yuta bowed too. “Good afternoon, Sir Nakamoto.”

He wasn’t upset. He really wasn’t. It just felt...weird. Almost nostalgic. It reminded him too much of his parents who always stood outside of school waiting for him to end classes. He almost forgot how it felt to have someone anticipating him. It’s different this time though, instead of his two loving parents, it’s the  _ Yakuza  _ Clan leader in suits with rows and rows of guards and men with guns and tattoos. 

If Sir Nakamoto had seen his face fall, he said nothing regarding that. “Yuta, would you like to have a walk with me in the garden?” He smiled amiably at him.

Yuta looked at Natsuki with an uneasy look but with the subtle encouragement given by Natsuki, he looked at Sir Nakamoto before nodding.

The two of them walked side by side down the Strolling Garden. Both of them didn’t say a word, so Yuta focused on the very soft shorelines, un-dramatic stone settings, and softly curved hills. The garden surrounded a central pond and both of them stopped right in front of the stone bridge. Made of hewn rock, the stone bridge was slightly curved, as one whole block or as two blocks parallel to each other with only a small overlap in the middle. There were no handles or railing, as it was designed to mimic those in the Edo period of Japan.

“Do you want to go over?” The Clan Leader asked, he looked at Yuta who didn’t look up to him but nodded nonetheless. “Okay, let’s go.”

Before Yuta could get onto the stone bridge, Sir Nakamoto held out his hand to Yuta. The Young Master stared at it with reluctance before putting his small hand in the Clan Leader’s huge one. Sir Nakamoto smiled warmly at him before holding his hand and walking on the stone bridge with him. Yuta knew that texture right away. It was one that his parents never had.  _ His hands...rough...calluses... _

“Sir Nakamoto?” Yuta asked softly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mm-hm,” the older man answered.

“Why would the Nakamoto Clan use dragons as its symbol?” Yuta asked, tilting his head curiously to the side as he looked up to him.

The Clan Leader looked a little taken aback by his question but he answered it anyway. “Dragons symbolize protection, power, wisdom, strength, and hidden knowledge,” he paused for a while to think before continuing, “in some way, you can think of it as the freedom of your soul or life.”

Yuta nodded in understanding. Sir Nakamoto continued. “For us  _ Yakuzas, _ it is the embodiment of chaos and untamed nature. Its fearsome and warlike qualities make it a wonderful ally or a fierce enemy.”

19 years later, Yuta stood in the old dressing room of the Nakamoto Training Ground, two golden dragons tattooed on his arms the same way it had on his father’s, he could see the stone bridge, now green with mosses, from where he stood. The numbness of his loss had passed, and the pain would hit him out of nowhere, doubling him over, racking his body with sobs.

* * *

The coffin gleamed in the early morning light that streamed through the grand hall’s windows. Yuta stood there in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie, surveying it. Dark stained cherry, a cushioned and quilted silky lining, the gold handles gleamed in the sunlight. Sir Nakamoto looked quite comfortable, with red camellia flowers scattered on top of his body.

“Yuta, the Clan Leaders are here,” Natsuki walked into the grand hall in a similar outfit. Except he had the golden pin on his right collar instead of the left. Yuta never had to wear the pin as he wore it as a necklace pendant, and this time, he had it out in sight.

Sir Hanae, Sir Odake, Sir Teratsuji, and Sir Kawamura walked into the grand hall, all of them in black Kimono, the right side over the left. Yuta stood up straight and bowed to them as they paid their respect. 

Yuta knew that the only reason he could be here, holding his father’s funeral in peace while the different world leaders have all sorts of grudges with him was that the different  _ Yakuza _ Clans and Leaders were here to pay their respect.

Unspoken loyalty and respect in  _ Yakuza _ was something no one dared to question, especially when the Nakamoto Clan was the biggest and the most respected clan in Japan. Not even the FBI, International Mafia Clans, nor the Japanese law enforcement dared to interfere.  _ Was.  _ Yuta laughed to himself.  _ Not anymore. _

Yuta also knew, once the funeral was over, the clan had to split and escape the upcoming storm.

“How are you holding up?” Sir Kawamura strode up to Yuta, a bouquet of Red Spider Lily in his hand. Yuta bowed to him.

“Sir Kawamura,” he greeted him with a frail smile. “I’m...doing okay…”

“Good, you need to be strong,” The old Clan Leader patted Yuta on his back comfortingly. “You can’t crumble yet, your clan needs you.”

“Yes, sir,” Yuta bowed again. Then he watched Sir Kawamura stride up to the open coffin. 

The Clan Leader placed the bouquet right on top of Sir Nakamoto’s resting arms and he clasped his hands together and prayed. Sir Kawamura took off the light and delicate silver ring on his hand and fitted it onto Sir Nakamoto’s ring finger, then he placed his hand right on top of the bouquet of flowers.

“Ichikawa, I’ll see you on the other side soon,” Sir Kawamura whispered softly. Yuta didn’t mean to hear that. He swore he had also seen a drop of tear falling right into the coffin.

* * *

Yuta stood right in front of the tombstone. The service was held in the Training Ground but Sir Nakamoto was buried in the meadow hidden right behind the headquarters of the Nakamoto clan.

The location was beautiful, a thin layer of snow covered the grass, frosting on the early morning dew. There was a view of the mountains and they glowed green in the light of a bright sun. It was perfect.

“Yuta,” Mr. Fukuyama walked up to Yuta from the back, smiling at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yea, I’m okay,” he lied, again. He wasn’t. “Don’t you think dad would love this place? It’s amazing.”

Mr. Fukuyama took a deep breath of the fresh air and sighed. “He will, this is a nice place,” he answered.

“It’s my favorite too,” Yuta read the tombstone again. His eyes were puffy from crying for the last five days. He was dehydrated, and his entire body was sore. But just standing here made him feel so, so much better.

“Yuta,” Mr. Fukuyama called him again. Yuta whirled to face him, his brows raised. The old  _ Wakagashira _ pulled a letter and a black velvet jewelry box out from his coat jacket and passed it to Yuta. “Your dad left you this, it was in his dresser, together with this box…”

“For me?” Yuta took them cluelessly. The envelope had his name written in  _ Kanji, _ the handwriting rather squiggly.

“I’ll...I’ll go back in first,” Mr. Fukuyama patted his back before turning around, leaving the meadow, leaving Yuta standing there alone.

Yuta opened the black jewelry case, inside the box sat two rings. They were the perfect blend of elegance and craftsmanship, a band of rose gold in the platinum. He then opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. In his dad’s favorite fountain pen, handwriting still bear the familiar aesthetic despite how crooked the words have been, it read:

_ To my one and only son, Nakamoto Yuta, _

_ Twenty years, some considered it too long, but I think it was too short. The time I get to spend with you was regrettably short, and I would bring this remorse and guilt to my grave. _

_ I would admit that at the beginning, I adopted you for the sake of the posterity of this Clan, but everything changed. I was forced into fatherhood, but I don’t regret it a single bit. _

_ You, alone, are the master of your own destiny and responsible for the keeping of your humanity in the harshness of life. Do that and, no matter what happens, you will be proud of who you are. You have a life to lead; so lead your life. Make your own choices, even when it appears there are none. And, my son, always make love your highest principle, and you'll be okay. You really will.  _

_ The nights are getting colder and colder, and my body is getting weaker and weaker each day, and it pained me to even write you this letter, but it is what I have to do, so bear with me. _

_ You became a part of me I never knew I needed, you became what I needed to protect, you taught me how to love. If there was anything that I regretted not telling you with my own mouth while I was alive...it would be that I love you and I am so, so proud of you, and that will never change. _

_ I didn’t just find a successor, I found a son; a family. So, Yuta, set out to look for the one you want to love and protect; your own family. _

_ Love, _

_ Your father, _

_ Ichikawa Nakamoto XI _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! We have come to the end of the fic! Congratulations and thank you for staying till the end.
> 
> Thank you to all of you who have been relentlessly commenting your theories and thoughts about this fic, I enjoyed reading them! Really grateful to those who have supported me from the beginning of this fic till the end ʕ ᵔᴥᵔ ʔ
> 
> I had fun planning this fic, and I hope you had fun connecting the dots with me (っ˘▽˘)(˘▽˘)˘▽˘ς) 
> 
> This marks the end of this fic, I'll be back when I finished planning for my future fics (´,,•ω•,,)♡ 
> 
> Thank you, once again. I'll be back when...I'm back.
> 
> Love, love, love, love, love,  
> Devil's Soulmate (｀∀´)Ψ


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